Chuck vs the White Flag
by MaloMoriQuamFoedari
Summary: My first attempt at fanfic. Sarah can't handle her feelings for Chuck and leaves, but only ends up leaving Chuck miserable and herself burnt out. Charah, but more than a bit angsty. CH 10: The 2x4 reveals something devastating, Charah take the next step.
1. A Chance Meeting

**Chuck vs the White Flag**

**A/N: After trolling the boards of Chuck fanfic for a while now, I have finally built up the courage to write, and publish, a work of my own, albeit a short one. Like I said, this is my first go at writing fanfic, so any criticism/pointers would be greatly appreciated. Also, I'd like to apologise in advance for any spelling (esp. those archaic UK English spellings, I can't help myself) and grammar mistakes or plot holes, but apart from that I hope you enjoy.**

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><p>In all her time as a CIA agent, Sarah Walker has strived to be the best. The best marksman, the best seductress, the best agent the agency has ever seen. The common consensus was that Agent Walker was indeed the best and deservedly so – she had worked damn hard to achieve that title. Therefore the feelings running rampant through her body, ones that she didn't understand, had never felt before, made her angry, infuriated; but if she was honest with herself, the anger, the fury, were just a mask for her fright, because Sarah Walker, CIA extraordinaire never gets frightened. Well… Except by her feelings for a certain Buy More nerd, that is. Not only was having these feelings, which she could never act upon unfair to Chuck, but it was absolutely against protocol.<p>

'_Spies don't fall in love', _Sarah berated herself_, 'Chuck deserves better...'_

Sarah sighed. She couldn't take it anymore, the tension between her and Chuck was palpable, barely hiding under the surface, so much so that she was certain Casey was aware, at least to some extent, of her feelings towards their asset. Sarah scolded herself mentally, she never quit, it just wasn't in her genetic make-up. But this, this was something that she couldn't fight, couldn't overcome, for once she couldn't come out top against overwhelming odds. It was the old adage – something's gotta give – and that thing was Sarah Walker, formerly of the intersect project, former handler of Chuck Bartowski.

_ 'Goodbye Chuck', _Sarah thought as she closed the door to her hotel room for the last time _'I really do love you…'_

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><p><strong>2 Years Later<strong>

Chuck was lying on his bed, re-reading Y: The Last Man for what seemed like the hundredth time, his thoughts, as always drifting back to the leggy blonde Valkyrie, as Morgan once put it, the subject of all his dreams. And his nightmares.

'_Was it really just two years ago she left without a word?', _Chuck asked himself. _'At times it feels like she left a lifetime ago, others… like it was yesterday…'_

Chuck inhaled deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. In some ways, reading about Yorick and Agent 355 reminded him of his relationship with Sarah, not that he was the last man on earth, or that Sarah worked for the Culper ring, and he sure as hell didn't own a monkey, but that's beside the point. Chuck was drawn from his musings by the large red print of his alarm clock sitting beside his bed.

'_6:30. Great', _Chuck thought _'time for another enthralling date with one of Ellie's friends. Spectacular.'_

Lethargically removing himself from his bed, Chuck decided he better find some alternate clothes for tonight's 'date'. It's not that he didn't appreciate all that Ellie was doing for him, he loved her for it, but he didn't understand why she couldn't see. It took him 5 years to get over Jill, and whatever the thing he had with Sarah was, real or not to her, to Chuck, his relationship with Sarah was like his Everest, where Jill was Ben Nevis. Exponentially more complicated, yet exponentially more meaningful.

'_This is going to be one long night', _Chuck sighed.

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><p>Once upon a time, she was the best in the CIA, top dog, the big kahuna, her name sent shivers through the bones of her enemies.<p>

'_God that feels like a lifetime ago',_ Sarah thought, nursing a drink at the club she had chosen to get smashed at tonight.

Okay, so she hadn't been at the top of her game recently, she would be the first to admit that. But she was still the best, her missions were mostly successful, she still managed to complete the objectives, like a good little agent. Sarah was sure that this little spate of distraction would end soon; everyone had periods of distraction in their lives, didn't they? But, unfortunately in this business, distraction is what got you killed, or worse, and two years is a hell of a long time. So she was put on 'medical leave', as they called it.

'_Might as well call me mental' _Sarah fumed, downing the JD in her glass, whilst silently signalling for another.

Sitting at the bar, letting her thoughts consume her, Sarah was snapped back to reality, hearing something that sounded oddly familiar, a voice maybe? Letting her eyes sweep the club, utilising her spy skills, Sarah kept looking for the face she left two years ago. She told herself that coming back to L.A. for her leave was purely because she liked the lifestyle, the climate, the people, but in her heart of hearts, Sarah knew that it was only because of one man.

'_Yeah. The people…more like person…', _Sarah snorted, bringing the rim of her glass to her lips, draining it of fluid.

Continuing her sweep of the club, Sarah's cobalt eyes landed on the band playing in the corner. The Foreign Born. _'Sounds like Chuck's kind of music',_ Sarah mused, allowing the music and alcohol to lead her into a self-imposed oblivion.

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><p>Yep, so the 'date' went entirely as expected; nowhere. It's not that the girl wasn't nice, she even liked to play Call of Duty from time to time, but as nice as she was, as perfect as she probably was for Chuck, she wasn't Sarah. Chuck knew that talking about the ex-girlfriend was a big no-no whilst on a date, but to be honest, Chuck couldn't really care less. Besides, was Sarah really even his ex-girlfriend? Ex-cover-girlfriend, yes, but just plain old ex-girlfriend?<p>

That's how Chuck Bartowski, keeper of 1000s of government secrets, found himself wandering aimlessly around the streets of L.A after another miserable date where he talked for hours about unrequited love, and his date got utterly bored. He was avoiding the wrath of one Eleanor Faye Bartowski, telling him he needed to get on with his life, find a new girlfriend, and get over Sarah. He knew the script word for word, God knows they'd rehearsed it enough times.

'_Everything stays the same' _Chuck thought, dragging his Chuck Taylor's along the uneven paving, '_only the names change…'_

Suddenly in the need of some liquid courage before returning to the tempest awaiting him at home, Chuck stumbled into the nearest club, intent on seeking out the delights of tequila and maybe, if he was feeling adventurous a little scotch. Descending the stairs into the not-so-smoky depths of L.A. nightlife, Chuck realised his surroundings. The posters, the carpet, the band, it was all the same.

'_Someone up there really doesn't like me' _Chuck scoffed, it was just his luck. Not only was this the place he took Sarah on their first date, the one before he realised he'd downloaded the entire database of government secrets into his brain, the one before he realised she worked for the CIA, the one before he realised that everything she did wasn't real, but the same band was playing? Not that he didn't like the Foreign Born, he actually quite enjoyed their music, but this was almost too cruel to be chance.

'_You know what, scrap that, I must have been a serial killer, emperor of the underworld, Ivo Robotnik or someone equally and/or more evil in a past life, because someone up there DEFINITELY doesn't like me.'_

His surroundings compounding his need for intoxication, Chuck quickened his step, keeping his head down, all the while heading towards the bar, narrowly avoiding hitting a couple dancing near the stairwell with only his years of lanky incoordination to avoid a major disaster (if you are feeling melodramatic, and by this point, Chuck definitely was).

"Sorry." He mumbled incoherently, continuing on his path as though all life depended on it.

Finally reaching the bar unscathed, eyes still firmly planted on his shoes, Chuck ordered a shot of tequila, downed it in one fell swoop before slamming the shot glass back on the bar.

"Another", Chuck called to the bartender, who had yet to return from retrieving the salt and lime for Chuck's first shot.

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><p>The first time she heard it, she could have passed it up as a memory, her mind playing tricks on her – after all she had all but drank her way through a whole bottle of Jack in the time she'd been at the bar, but the second time? Sarah, whatever her level of intoxication at the present point, knew that this was no memory, no mirage. Besides she could handle her booze nearly as well as Jeff…<p>

Turning her head to the sound, Sarah's breath hitched in her throat. It was him. Sure his hair was shorter and he looked like he'd had a rough night, but it was him, her Chuck. She'd know that face anywhere. Quickly, Sarah turned her eyes back to her now non-existent scotch, finding something infinitely interesting in the bottom of her glass. She had wanted this, to see him, tell him how she really felt, no covers, no compromises. That's the whole, honest to God reason she had come back to Burbank, of all the places she could have gone. But now, presented with the opportunity, she was at a loss, frozen into inaction. A novel experience for the great Sarah Walker.

Her heart pounding in her ears drowned out the music, the din on the patrons around her, and for the first time in her life, Sarah was alone, face to face with her own heart - the enemy within. And it scared her more than anything she had ever faced in her life. Since when had her response been to even contemplate flight over fight?

"Miss? Hello?", the bartender asked for the third time. Finally looking up, whisked from her internal battlefield, Sarah pulled a tight smile towards the bartender.

"Yes?", She replied, too intent on keeping a low profile, so as not to alert the lanky nerd along the bar, to afford any pleasantries.

"I asked you if you wanted another drink.", the bartender repeated with a hint of amusement.

"No, no. I'm fine, thanks…"

"Okay, then…", the bartender drawled, obviously slightly bemused by the blonde woman's strange behaviour.

Her resolve crumbling, Sarah rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands, elbows leaning on the bar counter. _'I can't do this… this was a mistake. I…'_

"Sarah?", the familiar voice resonated in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "Sarah, is that really you?"

_'Oh shit',_ Sarah thought, _'time to bite the bullet.'_

Lifting her sapphire eyes to meet the voice that had spoken her name a hundred times before, Sarah inhaled unconsciously, bracing herself for what was about to come.

"Hi, Chuck…"

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><p><strong>AN 2: I hope you enjoyed this little vignette, didn't really know where to go with this, so I stopped here, thought about another chapter, but I'm not sure. Unless, of course, there is demand for more (which would be quite flattering), I know cliff-hangers are pretty evil, then i'll write it. Thanks for reading, and have a nice rest of the day :)**


	2. Not the Way I'd Planned It

**Not the Way I'd Planned It**

**A/N: After some really nice and flattering reviews, for which I am eternally grateful, and calls for more of this story, I have decided write this as a continuation. I was asked to clear up a bit the timeline for this story, and hopefully have rectified this in the following... I hope you find it satisfying, and thanks again for all the kindly words. **

**I think I forgot to put this in last chapter, but, as you've probably guessed, I don't own Chuck. **

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><p>Sarah had never been one for romantic fantasies, for visualising things to come through rose tinted glasses. She was a pragmatist through and through. She supposed she had her father to thank for that. But this one time, Sarah let her fantasies get the better of her, imagining her reunion with Chuck to be a slow motion affair, both of them leaping through daisy leaden fields towards each other, arms out stretched, like a bad movie. Or something like that.<p>

The reality was the complete opposite. Sarah had seen awkward in her time, in a variety of different scenarios, but boy, this really cut the mustard. Chuck, who was standing mere inches from her after two years of oceans separating them, stared at her as if he had seen a ghost.

"So", Sarah began, licking her lips that had suddenly become dry, "how've you been Chuck?"

'_How've you been Chuck? That's all you can say after leaving him without so much as a goodbye for two years. You really are pathetic.'_ Sarah shook her head, clearing her mind of the sudden onslaught of self-deprecating thought echoing its way around her brain.

"I've been… good", Chuck replied, his eyes glazed over, eyebrows scrunched - a tell-tale sign of pain, of suffering, one that was so blindingly obvious to any trained spy, it broke Sarah's heart.

The far away look in his eyes receded, refocusing to meet with her own with such a fiery determination, it took Sarah a minute to gather her breath.

"I've been working on that five year plan I told you about." Chuck continued, oblivious of Sarah's sudden bout of asphyxia.

"Oh?..", Sarah whispered in reply, troubled by the idea of Chuck moving forward, whilst leaving her stuck in this emotional limbo.

'_I should have known he would be moving on by now, it's healthy, it's what a __normal__ person would do', _Sarah scolded herself. Why should she, of all people, feel betrayed by Chuck seeking happiness and fulfilment. She was the one who left him.

"Yeah, I've finally decided what font I want to use. I was originally thinking of going the classic route, you know Arial or Times New Roman, but I wanted to give it more of a Chuck feel, you know…"

Throughout their whole relationship/fake relationship thing, it had always been Chuck who had done most of the talking, and Sarah was more than happy with that unspoken agreement. She usually didn't have anything to say that she thought interesting or funny amongst normal conversation, and most of what she had to say was classified anyway. But the way Chuck spoke… So maybe he wasn't the most eloquent, and he wasn't going to win any awards as speaker of the year, but to Sarah Walker… His enthusiasm and sincerity never failed to captivate her, even when he was blabbering on about computer fonts Sarah couldn't even recall.

"…so I decided… StarVader. Yep, I downloaded it from the internet, and it's the exact replica of the title font for Star Wars, and Morgan was saying how awesome it was that I found such a good replica, and… I'm rambling. Again." Chuck finished, clamping a hand to his mouth before any more could slip out

Sarah chuckled quietly to herself. Despite her fears, he really hadn't changed. Despite being a grade A bitch to him and pulling him into the murky depths of the spy world, he still rambled when he was nervous, still dug his hands so deep into his pockets, it reminded her of a school boy searching for that ever evasive last piece of candy. Chuck was as sweet and caring as the day she met him.

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><p>To say Chuck was gobsmacked was an understatement. He'd known that pushing Sarah for validation of her feelings, true feelings, was risky, but when he felt such undying love for a woman, who, quite frankly, he knew very little about, even after just under two years of working together, of being a 'couple', how could he not ask her? But, he decided, almost the second after he learnt of her reassignment, after he learnt about Bryce's offer to her 6 months earlier, it was his fault she had left. He'd gone too far, dug too deep, been too greedy, and he'd lost her for that.<p>

'_Be cool Chuck', _his internal monologue was insisting, _'don't let this opportunity slip through your fingers.'_

So he rambled about the first thing that came into his head, about his five year plan, about his quest for the perfect computer font, about Morgan…

'_Yeah, way to play it cool, Chuckster',_ a voice oddly reminiscent of the Captain reverberated through his skull, _'so not awesome bro.'_

He'd stuck his foot in his mouth again, and for a guy of Chuck's stature, that was no mean feat. Yet here he was, doing it on a semi-regular basis, and especially in front of Sarah. He was pretty sure he'd blown his chance. Who knew if he'd ever get a chance like this again? Jack Burton was right, he really was a Schnook.

But, moments after he finally found the willpower to halt his verbal avalanche, he heard her laugh - only lightly, the blink and you'd miss it type, but her laugh had always been distinct to Chuck. After all, those times when they'd been together, out on cover dates, at dinner with the Captain and Ellie, he'd lived to hear her laugh. Forget ambrosia, Chuck reckoned the Gods could live off the laugh of Sarah Walker for eternity.

Bolstered by her response to his impromptu speech, which was definitely not the way he had planned it, and he had, many times, planned it, Chuck felt a surge of courage from somewhere, or everywhere, to the extent that when he looked back on this moment, he couldn't really pinpoint where it came from. So he did it. He asked her.

"Sarah. Um, do you… I mean, would you like to… y'know, go on a date with me, sometime… maybe?", Chuck stumbled, even with his sudden spurt of courage, he was still a nervous wreck around her.

Chuck held his breath, awaiting her response. He didn't even know why she was here, was she on assignment? Was she picking up a drug lord, exposing a nefarious underground smuggling ring or simply here for a drink after a long day? Chuck hoped beyond hope that it was the latter; she definitely didn't look as though she was staking the place out. But Chuck had learned early on with Sarah Walker and the spy business in general, that looks can be deceiving.

He'd put his heart on the line yet again, hoping this time would be different, that she'd say yes, that all of the tension would evaporate in an instant. But, from the moment he asked, he knew she wouldn't, and things would only get more awkward.

"Chuck…", Sarah started, averting her eyes yet again from his intense gaze. "I don't know if that's a good idea, I…"

"Just one date, Sarah, just one night, and if it ends up being shit then, well, at least we tried." Chuck interrupted, too afraid of the words he knew were soon to escape the soft lips of his angel. "I just want to know, Sarah, that this thing we have or had, underneath the undercover thing, if it means anything. Y'know? So don't say no, say yes, say maybe, say I'll think about it, but, just don't say no.", Chuck pleaded with such ferocity, he surprised himself.

After what felt like an eternity in waiting, Sarah's lips began to move, Chuck's unfaltering gaze ever present upon her soft features.

"Okay…", Sarah replied cautiously, slowly bringing her eyes back to meet his.

"Okay?", Chuck replied, a trademark grin quickly taking over his face, mirroring the elation filling his chest, urging him to sing from the rooftops in glee.

"Mmhmm", Sarah mumbled, her mouth slowly forming a subtle smile. "But I'm only here for two days, Chuck, then I'm being recalled to Langley…"

Chuck heard what she said, heard the reservation in her voice, but he couldn't care less. The possibility of two days with Sarah compared with a lifetime of never seeing her again? That was probably the easiest decision Chuck had ever had to make.

"Okay", Chuck said with a warmth that had been absent for nearly two years now. "It's a date."

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><p>Sarah threw herself against the door of her old apartment, (which she had never released) the familiar green décor of Maison23 surrounding her, and exhaled a deep breath, a grin plastering her face in the process as she thought through the arrangements for her date with Chuck the following night.<p>

However, her grin was quickly replaced by a frown. The reasons she hadn't pursued anything real with Chuck came flooding back to her. He was still a government asset and she was still an agent of the CIA, albeit a broken one. But it was more than that; those arguments were old, worn down and false. She was broken, not just as an agent, but as a person. She didn't know how to love, didn't know how to function in the world unless it involved conning innocent people out of their hard earned money, or protecting the nation from the threat of terrorism.

Sarah saw herself as a pathogen, highly infectious, transferring her disease with the slightest touch like swine flu on steroids. A pathogen she was sure that Chuck had no immunity against. Banging her head on the door behind her, Sarah let out a sigh of frustration. She hadn't even told him that she was going back to Langley in two days for a psych evaluation. An evaluation which she'd probably fail and then get put on another, longer period, of 'medical leave'.

'_Coming back was a mistake', _Sarah surmised, sitting on the floor with her knees pulled tight to her chest. _'I was being selfish, wanting it all for myself.'_

Slowly gathering herself from her thoughts, Sarah pulled her body to her feet, using the door handle to steady herself upon shaking legs. As she slowly made her way to the small bathroom, Sarah resolved to give this date her all, because, despite her reservations, this was Chuck, and he deserved nothing less than her best.

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><p>Chuck closed the door to his bedroom, his Tron poster casting a pale shadow upon his face in the moonlight, and slid his back down the door as soon as it hit the frame. He felt like he was on cloud nine. He actually had to stop himself from laughing at how surreal the experience had been. From the time he met Sarah at <span>the<span> club, of all places, to the time that she actually agreed to go on a date with him, it felt like he was in a dream. He'd actually pinched himself multiple times on the cab ride home to ensure that this was all, indeed, real; the newly formed red marks that had appeared on his left arm were testament to that.

Sarah was in L.A. for two more days.

'_I've got to pull out all the stops on this date', _Chuck concluded. He knew that for Sarah to even contemplate going on a date with him, in her line of work and with her past, was a big thing for her.

Jumping up from the floor, Chuck grabbed one of the pens that had been littering his desk and pulled out a sheet of crumpled, yet serviceable paper from under a pile of Justice League comics.

'_Two days to win a spy', _Chuck thought, all evidence of the alcohol from earlier in the evening evaporating from him. With his pen darting from paper to mouth in contemplation, Chuck started his plan to win the heart of Sarah Walker. Only in this plan, the font wasn't StarVader. And it certainly wasn't going to take five years.

'_Two days… she won't know what's hit her…'_

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><p><strong>AN 2: So there you have it, the next chapter! I am surprised at how quickly I blurted this one out seeing as I had no idea where this was headed even this morning! I think I am going to try and wrap this up in about 4 chapters total (?), with more live action rather than introspect… Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I hope you are having a great day :)**


	3. A Kiss with a Fist

**A Kiss with a Fist**

**A/N: I just wanted to take this opportunity to say a BIG thanks to BillAtWork, who has been like Virgil to my Dante, holding my hand and guiding throughout this chapter to make sure it was up to scratch. Also, I apologise for the gap between the last chapter and this one, time flies and all that…**

**Anyway, this chapter is a bit different to the previous two… having said that, I hope you enjoy.**

**Alas, I do not own Chuck.**

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><p>It's not that Casey was developing lady feelings, the world would probably implode the day that happened, but, for the last 4-ish years, it had been his job, and his duty, to protect the Intersect. And that meant protecting Chuck. Sometimes from the thing that he never saw coming, the terrorists, those that would use him for his brain. But occasionally, it meant protecting Chuck from the thing that he wanted most, that which would use him for his heart.<p>

Plus, in Casey's book, the kid was alright.

Casey sighed. Spies were creatures of habit. Knowing your surroundings intimately and keeping the same routines meant anomalies were easier to spot, hostiles easier to kill and meant you kept breathing for another day. But finding Walker was almost too easy. Yeah, Maison23 was familiar territory for her, but she obviously, on some level, wanted to be found. Just probably not by him.

Rapping his knuckles on the hard wood of Sarah's door, taking a step back in the process to allow his face to be clearly discerned through the miniscule peep-hole, Casey rehearsed the speech he'd prepared for this rendezvous in his head. Again. For the 5th time. He was, after all, a perfectionist.

The sound of shuffling, and the unmistakeable noise of metal being scraped off of wood just behind the door made Casey smile subtlety.

'_Good to hear you haven't lost it all, Walker'_, Casey mused, glad that his former partner didn't appear to have slipped as much as he had been led to believe.

Casey was pulled from his reverie by the sound of multiple locks being unfastened, followed swiftly by the swish of an opening door.

"What d'ya want, Casey", came Sarah's voice, hard and cold as a stone pillow.

'_So much for the warm reception',_ Casey thought, squinting through the mid-morning sun that had been unleashed into the hallway from Sarah's apartment.

"God, Walker", Casey replied, a hint of sarcasm evident in his voice, "you look like hell."

Sarah, silhouetted by the sun that danced behind her, from what Casey could tell, was a mess. Her hair was something resembling a bird's nest and she appeared to be donning a bizarre sweat pant and shirt combo. The latter, Casey discovered through squints, had apparently been buttoned by a 3 year old.

'_Maybe it is as bad as they say'_, Casey thought, hoping beyond hope that he was mistaken.

"Gee, thanks Casey." Sarah deadpanned. "Is that all? I'm kind of busy…"

"No." Casey stated firmly, placing his left boot between the door and the jamb to keep the rapidly closing door open.

"Can I come in?" Casey asked in a tone that left no room for argument.

His reply came swiftly, the sound of Sarah's trademark Smith & Wesson being cocked on the other side of the door telling Casey all he needed to know. But it took more than a little posturing to scare Casey from his cause.

'_I've already lost one toe, what was another?'_ Casey surmised, throwing caution to the wind.

"Jeez, Walker, it was a simple enough question, no need to go all commando on my ass." Casey growled, an incredulous look on his face.

"Yeah. Well I guess that was your answer. Goodbye Casey." Sarah wheezed, applying her body weight behind the door in an attempt to close it whilst still blocked from its path by Casey's unmistakable size 14's.

"Wait." Casey quickly replied, his toes feeling as though they were going to shoot of the end of his foot at any moment. "Just hear me out, okay? Let me say my piece and I'll be gone… I promise. For an old partner?"

Feeling the pressure on the door lift slightly, Casey wiggled his tortured toes and let out a grunt.

"So," Casey began tentatively, his eyes intent upon the now uncocked gun in Sarah's hand.

"Can I come in?"

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><p>Sarah had a good idea why Casey had decided that now seemed like a good time to pay a visit. She had, after all, been in L.A. for a week now, something she was sure a spy of Casey's calibre couldn't help but be aware of. The only thing that had changed in the last week was her impending date with Chuck.<p>

She knew the way this conversation was going to play out. Hell, if she was still Chuck's handler, she would probably be about to say the same things. You can't be involved with a government asset. Spies don't fall in love. Your duty is beyond personal feelings. You chose this path.

But the truth was, she hadn't. This life wasn't the one she'd wanted, or asked for; it was thrust upon her at a time when she didn't have any options left… In that respect, she was nothing like Casey… So why, when she looked in his eyes, did she see so much of what she was reflected back at her?

"He hasn't been the same, Walker." Casey said, his tone surprisingly soft to Sarah's ears. "Since you left… Well, let's just say it hasn't been easy."

Sarah stood, frozen into complete silence, her eyes intent upon the index finger currently in the process of burning a hole in the granite kitchenette worktop with its incessant fidgeting. Despite the fact that no name had been mentioned, Sarah knew immediately who Casey was referring to. This wasn't the way this conversation was supposed to start.

"In the beginning, he was in denial", Casey continued, "he was convinced that you were coming back, that you'd been put on a temporary special assignment, or helping your dad out of some trouble… Heh, the moron kept that malarkey up for a whole year. God, it drove me crazy…"

'_Now that's more like the Casey we all know and love',_ Sarah thought, a smile tinged with sadness, so small it was unperceivable to the naked eye, quirking her lips.

"Y'know, I reckon our boy should be the poster child for the Kübler-Ross model." Casey said, obviously on a roll now, and, much to Sarah's dismay, one that appeared not to be slowing any time soon.

"He got angry, and I mean really angry. I know you guys think that I have an angry centre, and I'd tend to agree with you, but Chuck… Man, that was something else. He was angry at me, at you, but mainly himself… It may have proved good for hunting terrorists and may have been a welcome change from his usual pansy ass self, but it definitely was not so good on the health..." Casey paused in his recollection to take a greedy schlurp of his black and bitter coffee.

Sarah wasn't sure she believed what she was hearing. Chuck had never once raised his voice to her, excluding his girlish screams of terror, so imagining that Chuck could be that angry – so much so that Casey noticed - was difficult for her, if not impossible.

"Most recently he's been bargaining... Haggling with some higher power… I've heard it all on the bugs when he thought he was alone. It would be funny if it wasn't so sad." Casey said, accusation rife in his tone.

"You really did a number on him, Walker, I'll give you that."

'_Casey's right'_, Sarah thought, guilt quickly spreading its way like wildfire through every fibre of her being.

'_I did this to him. I knew when I left that he would be angry at me, I accepted that as a necessary evil. But angry at himself? He had, and has, done absolutely nothing wrong. What could he possibly blame himself for? The denial, the grief, the bargaining… He grieves as if someone had died...'_

If she was alone at this moment, she probably would have curled up in a ball on her bed and not moved for a week. The thought that Chuck had been in this much pain, and she had been the cause of it…

"But… it's nothing compared to what I've heard about you, Walker." Casey carried on, oblivious.

"Want to tell me what really happened in Morocco?"

Sarah nearly gasped in shock. How did he know about Morocco, that information was classified to the highest level in the CIA, only the agents in the field and the director himself had access to those. But more importantly, what had been said about her behind her back? Morocco was definitely not a topic she wanted to broach at this point, that wound was too fresh… and the rumours? This was the first she'd been confirmed of their existence, but she had already guessed something must have leaked from somewhere, and in Sarah's experience, what was once a trickle almost invariably becomes a flood. The rumours were something she wasn't even sure she wanted to acknowledge, let alone discuss with Casey.

So she stood, head low, using her hair to shield herself from Casey's piercing gaze, ever present, boring a hole into the top of her head.

"He knows about it too, Walker. About you, about Morocco, about the medical leave. Well, he doesn't know the details, but he knows enough to get the gist." Casey informed, his voice once again taking on that unfamiliar softness.

"He's a smart kid, and it doesn't take a genius to work out why you did what you did. He can put two and two together."

"In some ways," Casey continued, "this whole dog shit of a situation you found yourself in in Morocco; it was somewhat of a blessing in disguise. Well, for Chuck it was. It gave him a purpose, a drive, hope, y'know. I haven't seen him so focussed since you left. I think he thinks he can save you, Walker. Poor lovesick bastard."

"But the question is, do you need to be saved, Walker. Or, more to the point, do you want to be saved?" Casey finished, his eyes glued to her expectantly.

'_And that',_ Sarah mused, _'was the million dollar question.'_

But in her heart, Sarah already knew the answer. She had, after all, with the entire world at her disposal, come to this sunny little corner of California – to L.A., to Burbank. Right now, however, there was a bigger question looming on the horizon. The true million dollar question, the one Sarah was currently asking herself:

'_Am I even worthy of being saved?'_

* * *

><p>Sipping his coffee, Casey never let his eyes wander from the figure standing directly opposite him. She was probably the best partner he'd ever had, and as much as it pained him to say, it hurt him to see her so completely broken. She hadn't said a word since his initial lukewarm reception, that and asking whether he wanted a drink. Apart from those two snippets, she had remained stalwartly silent.<p>

Placing his mug back on the worktop, Casey crossed his arms over his chest and awaited a reply. If he was anything, and Casey was many things, he was patient. Hiding in a wall for a week and impatience weren't a combo that mixed that well, so he could wait, standing in the same position, moving nary a muscle, for as long as it took. He just hoped that it wouldn't take a week.

'_What's going on in that head of yours, Walker?' _Casey pondered, psychology, especially of the female brain, never being his speciality. After all, hadn't he once told the very person in front of him that he broke things, he didn't fix them?

Casey sighed, something that he had been doing a lot of lately. It was obvious that he wasn't going to get an answer anytime soon, and as much as he would have liked to stay and wait it out, he had to get back to maintain surveillance on the Intersect sooner, rather than later.

"So, the way I see it, you've got two options." Casey began, an edge of finality shattering the silence that had been lingering in the air since his earlier words.

"You either leave now, before you crush Chuck anymore and be the bigger person, or you stay. For good this time, because for some reason, even after all that has happened – what you put him through – he never once stopped loving you."

Sarah's head immediately shot up upon hearing Casey announce that word, her own baby blues staring as penetratingly at Casey as he had been at her, only moments ago, causing him to smirk.

'_Can always rely on those lady feelings to get a reaction'_¸ Casey thought, trying to rein back his smirk to deliver, what he hoped, was the one thing Sarah needed to hear, out loud and from a person who knew the perils of being in love and being a spy could bring.

"And as much as you've tried to fool yourself otherwise, Walker, you love him too."

Letting his arms drop to his sides, Casey made his way to the front door, pausing as his hand reached the door knob.

"It was good to see you, Sarah." Casey bid farewell, opening the door to be greeted by a bland, empty hallway.

Glacing backwards over his shoulder into the dazzling sunlight before he left for good, Casey saw something in the eyes of Sarah Walker. He wasn't sure what it was, someone more poetic than he would probably describe it as a fire, but Casey just knew that it was something.

And something was darn sight better than nothing.

* * *

><p>"Thank you John." Sarah whispered her voice hoarse despite the coffee she'd been nursing for the last hour and a half. A single tear traced its way down her pale cheek as the door clicked shut behind her former partner.<p>

"I won't let you down."

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2: I know, no Chuck, but I hope this chapter has been enjoyable. As always, make sure you guys have a good'un.**


	4. Love Hurts

**Love Hurts**

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait for this chapter, I was in a place where, although the views are pretty spectacular, the internet connection was the complete opposite. Thanks again to Virgil… I mean BillAtWork, whose assistance has been greatly appreciated, and completely necessary. Sorry again and I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

><p>The courtyard was perfect; the twinkle lights Chuck had commandeered from Ellie's Christmas box and had draped carefully around the courtyard flora glinted serenely off of the water, cascading down the fountain whilst adding its own mesmerising symphony to still evening air.<p>

Beside the fountain, Chuck had set up a small table, intimate, with a candle and a rose in the centre, the table wear set impeccably in front of the two opposite chairs. Another classic from the one and only Roan Montgomery.

Wearing beige dress slacks and a blue button down shirt - his ever faithful Chuck Taylors completing the ensemble - Chuck surveyed his efforts, rearranging the multitude of pillar candles surrounding the edge of the fountain, in an effort to make sure nothing was out of place for when Sarah arrived.

'_Ten minutes to go… This has got to be perfect', _Chuck told himself, as he walked back into the kitchen to check on his world famous pepperoni chicken, _'nothing can go wrong_.'

* * *

><p>Sarah nibbled the nails on her right hand, one hand on the wheel, as she crawled down the streets of LA in her beloved Porsche, heading towards Echo Park, towards Chuck. She puffed out her cheeks, placing her hand, now with considerably shorter nails, back on the steering wheel.<p>

'_Why am I so nervous?'_ Sarah berated herself.

She'd been on hundreds of dates, most as a cover or part of a CIA operation and in much more dangerous situations than this, but there are many different kinds of danger. Sarah Walker was a good friend of the mortal; put your life on the line sort of danger. Dangers to the heart… Well, that was a different matter completely.

Turning left at the intersection, Chuck's apartment building slid into view, the Mediterranean style complex a perfect replica of the one she'd kept in her locked away in her mind's eye.

Pulling up opposite the entrance to the complex, the engine still running, Sarah gathered herself for the evening to come.

'_It would be so easy to just leave. Go, never look back', _Sarah thought, admonishment filling her body as soon as the thought was aired.

She'd tried that before, and the truth was, she had looked back. It was as if she was Lot's wife, watching as Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed by fire and brimstone, after explicit instruction not to. She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help herself, even if it led to her own destruction.

Plus, she'd promised herself she would give this date her all, for Chuck.

Checking her hair and make-up in the rear view mirror for one last time, Sarah shut off the engine, and disembarked from the safety of her car.

'_Well…'_ Sarah thought, taking in a deep breath whilst gently closing the door of her Porsche behind her.

'_Here goes nothing…'_

* * *

><p>Hearing a car door close just outside the courtyard through the open window, Chuck froze. This was it, show time.<p>

Brushing down the front of slacks whilst clumsily running a sweaty, shaking hand through his hair to tame the animals, Chuck marched to the door, flinging it open to see his angel gliding, as if on water, towards the courtyard entrance.

She was stunning. If he died, and went to heaven, he was sure it would look exactly like this, and if he didn't start breathing soon, it wouldn't be long until he found out.

Her golden hair flowing around her shoulders only accentuated her angelic aura with her silky blue, figure fitted dress, simple yet elegant, echoing those smouldering eyes Chuck had always found mesmerising.

Spluttering the air back into his lungs, Chuck let a smile creep onto his face. This was real, and she was here. He'd had his doubts, but he'd quashed them quickly. She was Sarah Walker, she'd protected, putting her life on the line for the better part of two years and she'd never let him… down…

Shaking the mood killing thoughts from his head, Chuck gently closed the door of the apartment behind him, his eyes never leaving Sarah's approaching form as he put one foot in front of the other to meet her halfway across the courtyard.

Standing beside the fountain, the location of many of their relationship's defining moments; Chuck got a sense of déjà vu, but soon shrugged it off to let out a shaky breath.

"Sarah…" Chuck breathed, his voice no more than a whisper, "I'm glad you could make it…"

The distance between them was painful. Not as close as he would have liked, yet not far enough apart to be purely platonic – to be easy. The sudden wave of tension between them crashed over the once serene atmosphere like a storm surge in gale force winds.

'_What do I do'_, Chuck asked himself, panic rising from the pit of his stomach, _'do I give her a peck on the cheek? Or is that too forward? Do I simply show her to the table? Or is that too distant?'_ The conundrum Chuck was facing becoming more and more important, and panicking per second.

'_A hug'_, Chuck decided, _'suitably friendly, without being too forward.'_

Gradually leaning forwards to capture her in a gentle, if slightly awkward embrace, Sarah's smooth hair caressing his cheek, Chuck felt a tingle in his chest he'd not felt for a long time. It felt like coming home.

"Me too", Sarah replied just as softly, her jaw moving gently over Chuck's shoulder; the awkwardness of the situation evaporating into the ether as rapidly as it had formed.

They stood, revelling in each other's touch, for what felt like mere seconds or eternity all at the same time. Breathing in the familiar grapefruit scent of her hair, one Chuck had long ago associated with Sarah; he was drawn from his musings by an incessant beeping.

'_The chicken', _Chuck deduced, _'it must be the chicken.'_

Reluctantly breaking the embrace, and immediately feeling cold for it, Chuck showed Sarah to a seat at his perfectly laid table, tucking the chair in gently beneath her as she sat.

"That would be dinner", Chuck explained as he made his way backward to the apartment, and the dinner.

"Made by none other than yours truly." Chuck smirked as he turned the door knob, "It's my world famous Pepperoni Chicken, guaranteed to astound. You'll love it."

As Chuck disappeared behind the door, leaving Sarah sitting in the candlelight, he never heard her murmur:

"I already do, Chuck… I already do…"

* * *

><p>Sarah was pleasantly surprised by Chuck's apparent prowess in the kitchen. She was tempted to ask whether he'd had any guidance from a certain sister of his, but decided against it. Besides, she didn't really know how Ellie felt about her after she'd upped and left, and if Ellie did have anything to do with the dinner, it would probably have been a bit more taxing to prepare than Pepperoni Chicken – but definitely less Chuck. The chicken was succulent, whilst the steamed vegetables Chuck had prepared as a side were perfectly al dente, and just the way Sarah liked it.<p>

She hadn't felt so secure for a long time. Yes, everybody seemed to go back to Morocco as the point in her life when things started to slip, but to be honest, there was a specific place and time that Sarah could look back on and clearly identify as the defining moment, the point at which she knew beyond a doubt that she had lost something. It was not the place she'd expected, and had come entirely out of the blue, but it came nonetheless.

'_I suppose all those evenings spending Friday nights at dinner with Chuck, Ellie and Devon… and of course Morgan gave me a sense of place, of purpose, of being part of a family…' _Sarah thought, letting her mind wander back to a place it hadn't been since the early months after her departure from L.A.

_Sarah sat, her seat facing all points of egress from the small, familiar Italian restaurant just west of London's Charing Cross station. It was one of her favourite haunts during her visits to the English capital. She'd ordered the seafood linguine, the capers adding a perfectly salty seasoning to the dish that Sarah thought was ideally reminiscent homage to the original home of the dishes main attraction. _

_In the distance, the lights of Canary Wharf twinkled upon the serene waters of the Thames estuary, the water bobbing lightly as the tide withdrew. _

_But as beautiful as the scenery was, and how good the food was, Sarah was still alone. A table for two, seating just one. And at that moment, Sarah felt the uninvited and unfamiliar pain in her chest of loss. It was something that she had never truly experienced before, not when her dad got taken in by the feds, not when she thought Bryce was dead. _

Suddenly her gourmet meal seemed less than appetising. The flavours that were once so sweet and delectable on her palate becoming bitter and burnt. Because nothing could erase the taste of her failure, of what her body was telling her it needed. Nothing, of course, except perhaps the cooking of a certain super nerd's awesome sister.

Sarah was swiftly brought from her reverie by the sound of breaking glass from the seat opposite her. There sat Chuck, a sheepish look on his face, holding a wine glass in shaky, pale hands, which sported a newly acquired mouth shaped rim.

"Oh my God!" Sarah exclaimed, her immediate reaction to reach over to Chuck to make sure he was OK only thwarted by the large pillar candle that separated the dining couple. "Chuck? Chuck are you Okay? Oh my God!"

"NmMm Okay", Chuck mumbled whilst extricating a frighteningly large chunk of what was wine glass from his now empty mouth, his cheeks resembling more and more a fire truck by the second.

"Just a little embarrassed", Chuck chuckled placing the offending piece of glass on the napkin beside his plate. "Bet you've never had anyone swallow glass for you on a date before…"

Sarah had to laugh. He'd done it again. All the tension, the panic, that was, just a second ago, weighing on her shoulders as if the world was upon them, had simply vanished. Just one quip and Chuck had made everything alright again.

'_Damn it', _Sarah thought_, 'I'm getting in too deep already.'_

"So…" Chuck began tentatively, moving the topic of conversation swiftly past his culinary faux pas, "what do you think of the chicken?"

* * *

><p>Sarah sat, cold and alone at a table that only minutes before felt vibrant and full of life. She supposed that was all Chuck's doing, and that she was simply sitting, basking in the atmosphere, the pointless – because silence was never awkward with him -, yet entertaining conversation, an inferior 'made-in-China' replica of the woman she once was.<p>

Sarah shook her head. She was sure as hell not going to let this train of thought continue down its inevitable dark and twisted path. She knew all too well where that led, and it wasn't pretty.

Pulling herself from her chair, Sarah paused to take in the spectacle that was the courtyard. She had previously been too intent upon Chuck, his words, the way he ate, the way he seemed to see so deep into her soul with every look it scared her. But now that he was gone, Sarah let herself be awed at the scale, and the perfection Chuck had prepared especially for her. The way he had draped the twinkle lights just so over the wildlife, the way in which the flicker of the candles echoed on the fountain's waters adding their subtle perfume into the intoxicating air, the gardenias skilfully hidden, yet obviously placed throughout the courtyard.

Sarah found her feet pulling her towards the door that she had been through many times, under many guises – spy, guardian, girlfriend, burglar… It was almost like she was drawn to it, inexplicably, yet with surprising strength and her mind was powerless to halt the rhythmic stepping of her feet, or heart.

Before she realised it, her possessed legs had carried her to the kitchen, the muscles in Chuck's back working strangely erotically to Sarah's eye as he dried the plates from dinner.

It was obvious that he was oblivious to his company; his small, delicate humming as he set the now dry plate on the kitchen worktop was testament to that. Keeping her element of surprise, Sarah silently sidled up behind Chuck, her wet lips mere centimetres from his ear.

'_This is what he wants', _Sarah told herself, _'after all that I've done to him, this is the least that he deserves.'_

'_Besides, it can't hurt that this is what I want too. Can it..?'_

Releasing a warm breath into Chuck's ear, causing him to tense and straighten at the sensation, Sarah deliberately slowly, with a hint of lust peppering her voice whispered,

"That was the best meal I've had in two years, Chuck", her voice lingering over that final syllable, her hands finding their way down into the back pockets of Chuck's slacks.

"I… uh…", Chuck stammered, extricating Sarah's hands from his slacks by turning, only to be faced with hooded black orbs in place of the usual sapphire.

"Well… the pepperoni…"

Suddenly, her lips were upon his, pressed together with such fervour that Chuck wasn't sure he hadn't broken a tooth, her teeth nipping sensually at his lips when her tongue was denied the entrance it so desperately craved. All the while, Sarah's fingers dextrously worked the buttons of his shirt open, whilst Chuck, a statue, was still attempting to process this swift turn of events.

"Wait.", Chuck managed, only just pulling away from the kiss, his lips tingling pleasantly after Sarah's ministrations.

"Sarah, what are you doing?"

Her fingers were still desperately trying to undo the shirt that was now half open, her eyes intent on her task.

"If you have to ask", Sarah said, her voice mimicking the lust in her eyes whilst her hands moved underneath his now open shirt and ghosted their way around his back.

"I must be doing it wrong." Sarah finished, her words punctuated with wet, sensual kisses to his chest and neck that caused Chuck's eyes to flutter.

"Besides, I just realised something of extreme import", Sarah added, her hands wandering all over his chest, his back, his stomach, but never leaving his skin.

"Oh", Chuck replied breathlessly, his hands coming to rest on Sarah's hips almost instinctively.

"Mmhmm", Sarah murmured through a kiss.

"This is our third first date. And everyone knows what happens on a third date", Sarah almost moaned, her lips once again ever so delicately tracing Chuck's ear.

"Yeah?", Chuck replied, his hands gently rubbing Sarah's sides autonomously, his self-control rapidly fading into the sunset.

"Wait.", Chuck repeated, more forcefully this time, causing Sarah to momentarily release Chuck from her tantalising enchantment.

"Come on, Sarah. Do you really want to do it like this?", Chuck gestured to their position in the kitchen, Chuck's legs digging firmly into the kitchen worktop, whilst Sarah appeared to be using Chuck's body as a walking aid.

"A quickie standing in the middle of the kitchen would hardly do our first time justice…"

"I was only going to start in the kitchen", Sarah replied innocently, her desire, seasoned with mischief, barely disguised behind her obsidian eyes.

"Then I was thinking the bedroom… then the couch… and the bath…"

"Screw a quickie", Sarah chuckled at her choice of words, "I was planning to stay the whole night."

Chuck gulped. The bigger, less gentlemanly part of him was telling him to go for it, take her right there where she stood. It's what she wants, it argued, directing his eyes into hers before lowering them to her slightly parted lips.

'Don't do it', a small voice was urging him, barely audible over the shouts of hormones.

'It may be what you want now, but is it what you need? What about later?'

"Yeah.", Chuck began hesitantly, "but what about a lifetime?", Chuck finished and began buttoning up his shirt.

'_If the better side of me won out', _Chuck asked himself, a feeling of guilt and emptiness overcoming him, _'then why does it feel so bad?'_

Sarah slumped her head. That had stung. Lifetimes were something that she had never calculated in. In fact, she had purposely avoided doing that very thing, being the daughter of a conman, then a spy, didn't really afford you the luxury of thinking much beyond the next day or week, let alone a whole lifetime.

Perhaps the sting was so strong, so potent, because Chuck had hit the nail right on the head. Or maybe it was just the fact that it was Chuck who had spelt it out for her. Nethertheless, he was right. She was acting out of sorrow, for the pain she had caused him and for the two years in which she had practically given up on life and in the end, going about things in the way she was, would only end up with them both on the skinny end of a bad bet.

And there were definitely things worse than contemplating spending a lifetime with Chuck Bartowski.

'_In fact', _She thought, a moment of excitement coursing through her veins, _'I don't think there'd be much better.'_

"Come on", Chuck said, his voice seemingly full of the security and resolve that Sarah felt she was so desperately lacking.

"I've got something extra-special planned. We've got plenty of time."

* * *

><p>Chuck was pleased. In fact, he was more than pleased – over the moon would probably best describe his mood at this particular moment, despite all that had, or rather, hadn't occurred earlier. He'd had his reservations about this part of the date, but he'd wanted to show Sarah that he was still the same guy that she had agreed to go on a second first date with all those years ago, when they thought the intersect was soon going to become a distant memory.<p>

Oh how wrong they were.

But Sarah seemed to be enjoying herself. Okay, she wasn't the greatest player of Guitar Shredder he'd ever seen, Lazlo blew everyone out of the water in that respect, but she wasn't half bad.

'_Heh', _Chuck laughed internally, remembering the tense events that day below the pier. _'He almost literally blew everyone out of the water.'_

Here she was, his super spy guardian angel, mushing the buttons on the guitar controller, tongue poking ever so slightly out from between her soft, voluptuous lips whilst her foot attempted to keep time with her strumming.

A shriek of joy, followed swiftly by an Ellie-esque bear hug from the usually reserved blonde enigma, caused a grin so big that he thought his jaw would break, to spread instantly across Chuck's face. He was relieved that his wild card plan to take Sarah to the arcade had paid off – with interest – but in all honesty, he was more relieved to see her having fun and letting her hair down per se. From the things he'd overheard, he wasn't sure she'd ever let him see that side of her again.

He was definitely glad she did.

"Oh my God!", Sarah exclaimed, a look of pure joy evident on her features as she pulled away from Chuck. "I never realised that a video game could be so entertaining, or challenging for that matter!"

Chuck's breath hitched in his throat. Sarah's hands were currently rubbing themselves up and down the side of his chest, completely absentmindedly, he was sure, but nonetheless got the juices flowing.

"Well", Chuck gulped, his voice slightly higher than he would have liked it.

"I have tried to tell you like a million times, but naeoiu…" Chuck drawled, ducking away from the arm of one Sarah Walker, rapidly approaching on an intercept course to swat his right arm, causing Chuck to laugh heartily.

"Catch me if you can, slowpoke!", Chuck jibed, his voice filled with laughter as he sped off up the pier and away from Sarah's seeking arms.

"Oh, you're on, mister!", Sarah shouted in retort, her sapphire eyes twinkling mischievously in the evening light, as she took off after her fleeing quarry as a lioness would a lamb.

As Chuck felt his lungs start to burn, after which was by anybody's judgement a pathetic distance, he searched his memories for a time when he felt this happy, this care free. Yeah, there were his game nights with Morgan, but that was different, less potent, more ordinary. He had to go all the way back to…

"Oof", Chuck grunted, the last of the remaining air being punched out of his lungs by an unknown force as his face began rapidly closing in on the wooden pier.

'_Damn it'_, was the last thought to enter Chuck's mind before his face planted itself firmly into the floor of the pier.

* * *

><p>"Shit, shit", a familiar, heavenly voice directly above him repeated profusely. "Chuck, are you okay? Shit."<p>

"Aaargh", was all that Chuck could initially manage, a sudden throbbing in his nose robbing him of words.

"NmMm Okay", he mumbled, a feeling of déjà vu overcoming him.

Slowly planting his feet underneath him, both hands providing support on either side of his body, Chuck straightened, freeing his hands to rub his now sore nose.

"What the frak was that?", Chuck exclaimed as he turned to Sarah, her face a strange shade of crimson, features distorting into worry.

"Shit", Sarah repeated for what seemed to be the hundredth time, serving a dual purpose of distraction. Her palm reaching out to cup his cheek, Sarah's soft hand manipulated Chuck's head back and forth, garnering her with a better view of his now elephant like nose.

"Wha? What is it?" Chuck panicked, the feeling of Sarah's hand placed so gently on his face being momentarily overwhelmed by his fear of the possibility of blood, or broken bones, or both.

"Chuck, your nose…", Sarah replied, her voice quiet as a mouse, holding in a giggle.

"I don't think it's broken, but… It certainly is… Uhh.. Swollen…"

Using a mirror on the side of an old, badly refurbished Tron arcade game to inspect his nose, Chuck screeched.

"Aaah! I look like a nerdy American version of Gerard Depardieu!"

Hearing Sarah chuckle at his statement, Chuck continued to inspect his growing nose in the mirror, turning his head from side to side, much in the fashion Sarah had earlier. Except this felt much colder, and much more painful. Turning his head to the left, Chuck's eyes met the reflection of a small ice-cream bar just up the pier.

'_Jackpot'_, Chuck thought, the pain in his nose subsiding a little as he gently grabbed Sarah's smooth empty hand and made a beeline for the ice cream shack.

* * *

><p>Sarah was happy. Happier than she had been in a long time, but then again, that wasn't that hard. Being with Chuck was like the last two years had been erased, it was almost dream like. The same went for<p>

Walking down the beach with a rapidly decreasing pot of rocky road ice cream that Chuck had ordered for her without a second glance, in her hand, Sarah knew that once before in her life, this would have been perfect. The setting, the place, the man… But now? The same question she had been asking herself since Casey's visit earlier began to seemingly burn itself into the back of her retina.

'_Do I deserve this? Who am I to inflict myself, damaged and broken, the person who left him once and broke him, upon him? _

'_Fuck what I deserve.'_ Sarah chastised silently, the sweetness of the rocky road suddenly turning bitter on her tongue. Stabbing her tiny spoon violently into the remaining ice cream, Sarah continued, _'Chuck definitely deserves better.'_

A chill, not too different from the one Sarah abruptly felt coursing through her heart, ran through the now darkened night air, the moon and stars providing the only glimmer of light in a sea of ever expanding darkness, which Sarah would later attribute as the cause of her shivering.

Chuck, catching sight of Sarah's naked, goose pimpled arms hugged tight to her chest, quickly shrugged off his Buy More jacket, placing it gently over her shoulders without a moment's hesitation.

"Thank you Chuck", Sarah said, her voice soft and filled with gratitude.

Chuck just nodded, removed the pot of ice-cream from his nose and looked upon her with a smile before turning his face to his feet. Sarah obviously wasn't the only one with something on her mind. She just prayed that whatever Chuck was mulling over wasn't what she suspected it to be.

After what, to Sarah's mind, felt like an eternity of walking in silence, albeit comfortable, Sarah felt a warmth encompass her hand, felt long, gentle fingers intertwine themselves with hers, causing Sarah to release a breath that she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

Gesturing at a spot in the undisturbed sand, Chuck began to sit, knees in front of his body, whilst keeping his hand firmly within Sarah's. Sarah copied his actions, copying his position limb for limb, and stared into the vast ocean that made its way, never ending into the distance.

"I love you Sarah", Chuck stated, as if an undisputed fact.

Sarah whipped her head to face Chuck. Much like her conversation with Casey earlier, that wasn't what she'd expected to hear.

"And I'm in this for the long haul." Chuck continued, this obviously what he had been pondering on their moonlit walk.

"I don't want to drag you into something that you're not comfortable with, and that's why I have to tell you the truth."

Sarah didn't like the sound of this. She knew basically every line in the book of how to let someone down easy, heck, she'd even put a few in there herself, but that didn't make it any easier.

"I love you Sarah", Chuck repeated with the same resolve and determination as before, "I guess what I'm saying is, I want to wait until the time is right. Y'know, I suppose I'm holding out for love…"

BUT I DO LOVE YOU CHUCK**, **Sarah wanted to scream at the top of her lungs as her hand tightened its grip on his, apparently afraid that Chuck would simply disappear. But some invisible force stopped the words in her throat as soon as they were being formed.

And what did he mean by waiting until the right time? There was never a right time, especially with the life that she led; they only happened in films and television shows, never in real life. The thought made Sarah want to scream in frustration.

Confirming that he could indeed read her thoughts, Chuck smiled. "I don't need you to say it now, heck I don't want you to say it now, but someday, when you are ready, Sarah. I'll be here. I've waited two years… Okay, so for some of that I was perhaps a little bit angry at you, but it didn't take me long to realise what I really wanted..." Chuck paused in his speech to make a vital correction.

"What I needed. But if two years is what you needed to figure things out, I guess the anger, the hurt…" Chuck paused suddenly, realising the hole he had begun to dig himself into.

"Anyway… I guess it was worth it. Besides, I already know…"

Sarah's head shot up in surprise, her eyes wide as saucers, staring unblinking into the crashing waves. For a person whose career depended on deception and deceit, she obviously hadn't been doing that good of a job. She wanted to say something, anything, to deny everything Chuck had laid bare, but once again words evaded her, the Joker to her Batman. Besides, denying what Chuck had said wouldn't lead to deceiving anyone, it seemed, but herself.

Realising that Sarah wasn't going to say anything anytime soon, Chuck sighed.

"I know that you're probably hurting right now. I get it, I've been there. But y'know what?" Chuck said, his voice becoming more cheerful as the sentence progressed.

"That also means that I know the best thing to do about it. You'll see. Don't think of this as the end of a night, but the beginning of a day, in all its sun filled glory. Tomorrow's a new dawn, a new day. It's going to be okay… I promise."

"Just do me one thing", Chuck continued in a soothing voice, nudging Sarah with his shoulder as the sun began to peek over the sitting couple's shoulders, revealing the hidden diamonds shimmering gently on the quietly lapping sea for the first time.

"Trust me, Sarah…"

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2: The irony of Jim Capaldi's Love Hurts shuffling onto my iPod while I wrote this chapter was not lost on me. Unfortunately it had the less than helpful effect of making me think about Jeffster… It's also where I got the chapter name from!**

**Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, Morocco will be revealed soon! **

**Any feedback is greatly appreciated, and don't forget to make sure you have a good day :)**


	5. When Fan and Excrement Collide

**When Fan and Excrement Collide**

**A/N: Yay! I finally got around to writing the next chapter, with much help from BillAtWork/Virgil, who is actually responsible, not only for making this 1,000 times better than was originally, but for the title also! Muchas gracias, Bill! **

**Oh, and just FYI, this chapter is a much more action orientated than the previous… And contains 72% more profanities... FACT.**

* * *

><p>Chuck finally felt like he had a sense of purpose for the first time in two years. Sure, he was the intersect, the most important piece of government intelligence in the whole United States, but that was something that was thrust upon him and something that he had never really gotten used to. Even with his download of the good for nothing intersect 2.0 at a time when he was just about ready to give up on life, the spy world was still something he felt an outsider to, as though he was on one side of a glass barrier, only millimetres thick, with the likes of Casey and Cole on the other… So why did it feel like light years?<p>

But helping Sarah, through the confusion and pain Morocco brought with it, that was something he was comfortable with. In fact, it was something Chuck felt he needed to do, if not for Sarah, then for himself.

Chuck mulled last night's meeting over in his head whilst pulling the Nerd Herder off the Interstate just before Sarah's apartment. It's not that he hadn't had a great time; it was probably the most alive he had felt in a long while, but some of the things Sarah did…

'_No…'_ Chuck corrected mentally as he turned the Herder right at the intersection, _'what she was going to do...'_

Simply put, it wasn't her. At least, not the Sarah Walker that had left two years ago – she definitely would never have done something so bold, so compromising. But maybe that was a good thing? After all, wasn't that what he had wanted since the first time he laid eyes on her?

Chuck banged his forehead on the steering wheel in frustration, setting off the horn in one long, screeching burst. When had things gotten so complicated?

'_The second I opened that bloody e-mail from Bryce fucking Larkin.'_ Chuck spat, instantly berating himself for the manner in which he had addressed the dead.

Chuck sighed. He'd said to Sarah that tomorrow was a new dawn, a new day – one of his favourite lyrics from the legendary Nina Simone - and he was going to treat it as such.

'_A new start'_, Chuck whispered to himself. And this one came bearing coffee and chocolate croissants.

Making the final turning onto Sarah's street, the low 0900 o'clock sun dazzling his eyes, Chuck blinked through the haze, his eyes pulled towards the unmistakable form of Sarah's black Porsche 911.

The Porsche, that just so happened to have three thuggish skin heads clad in identical black t-shirts and trousers scattered conspicuously around it. One, Chuck glimpsed as the one of the figures turned, his back now towards Chuck, judging from the odd bulge at the small of his back, was obviously packing.

'_Shit'_, Chuck thought, panic spreading through his body as his knuckles whitened upon the steering wheel. He had been in and around this business too long to know that three men, looking like they did, surrounding the car of super spy Sarah Walker, was definitely more than a coincidence.

"Shit." Chuck repeated into the silence of the Herder. "Shit, shit, SHIT."

Keeping the herder cruising at around 30 mph to avoid suspicion, Chuck casually turned left around corner immediately after the Maison23 complex, slamming on the brakes as if a toddler had made a bid for freedom into the road immediately after the manoeuvre was complete.

Shutting off the engine, and pulling his keys swiftly from the ignition, Chuck attempted to stay calm. If there were three outside, how many were inside? Were there even any inside?

Chuck quashed that thought immediately. Of course there were going to be more inside. Three men like that didn't just stand around a car; no matter how nice it was, just because they felt like it. No.

'_Those must be sentries…'_, Chuck surmised, hoping that the basics regarding surveillance, interrogation and self-defence that Casey had almost forcefully pummelled into him, proved themselves helpful.

"_The key is to know your enemy_", Chuck could almost hear Casey lecturing.

"_If you don't know their motivations, their strengths, their weaknesses, what makes them tick",_ Chuck's inner Casey continued, providing a surprisingly soothing sensation, _"You might as well kiss your pansy ass goodbye."_

"Who the fuck are you?" Chuck said to himself, checking his mirrors fervently to ensure that he hadn't been made before he'd turned the corner. "And what do you want with Sarah?"

Chuck decided he needed to get a closer look. Stepping tentatively out of the Herder, the coffee and croissants long forgotten, Chuck scoped the street, checking for any potential threat before he left his only point of safety. Empty, save for what looked to be a truanting pre-teen, who, misdemeanour aside, didn't seem to pose any danger.

'_Maybe the intersect might actually work for once'_, Chuck scoffed as he began to wander back towards the complex entrance as inconspicuously as was possible in his Nerd Herder uniform, the voice in his head dripping with sarcasm.

Peeking over a conveniently placed and conveniently tall bush, just perpendicular to the apartment entrance, Chuck held his stride and was once again met with the view of Sarah's Porsche. And it's newly acquired posse.

'_Casey may look like a G-man'_, Chuck mused, his eyes narrowing whilst never leaving the burly sentry closest to his position, _'but these guys take the biscuit.'_

Just as Chuck finished an errant, and totally inappropriate at this juncture, thought about biscuits and the argument of whether Jaffa Cakes were indeed cakes or biscuits (Morgan was adamant they were the latter), a faded blob of a tattoo - which looked as though it may once have been a coiled snake - on one of the G-man's necks sent a flurry of images pouring into his head.

_A cat._

_A dead bird._

_Nuclear weapons testing._

_Emaciated corpses._

_The name Roberto Forlan._

_Fulcrum._

_A cat._

"Shit", Chuck repeated, his new favourite word emanating from his mouth overly loudly, causing him to duck back behind the bush and out of the sight of the three Fulcrum agents.

This was pretty much as bad as things could get. Fulcrum had been pretty quiet of late, maybe due to the fact that Casey and himself had managed to destroy the majority of their intersect research facility nearly a year ago, through the creative use of C-4 and fishing wire. But to be honest, their lack of presence had both him and Casey more than a little uneasy.

Chuck ran a clammy palm through his hair. It's not even as though he could call his partner for back-up either. Casey was conveniently on his way back to Fort Meade – all the way in Maryland – to begin his annual weapons recertification this week. Although, Chuck surmised, that probably wasn't a coincidence either.

Chuck took a deep breath and closed his eyes in an attempt to sooth his fraying nerves. But the images that greeted him under the cover of his eyelids did just the opposite. He envisioned Sarah, face mashed unrecognisably, blood pouring profusely from her nose, her mouth, the deep inch long gouges that now made up her cheeks, lying broken on the floor whilst the bastards that had dared lay a hand on his angel kicked the broken figure, smoked cigarettes and joked with each other as if this was all just a walk in the park.

Chuck's eyes shot open, a steely resolve sweeping across them, his hands beginning to shake in anger at the mere thought of anyone laying a hand to Sarah.

Swiftly leaving the cover of the towering bushes, Chuck kept his head low - staring straight at the sidewalk, all the while determinedly directing his feet towards the front entrance of the apartment block, all thoughts banished from his mind, save for that of Sarah's broken body.

It was at that point, Chuck almost stumbled over his own feet. He wasn't frightened, didn't fear the guards who looked as though they could kill him with their pinky fingers – a novel experience for Chuck.

'_Isn't this the part where I usually scream like a girl in terror?' _Chuck mused, continuing on his path, slightly more carefully this time.

'_So why aren't I?' _

But as soon as Chuck had posed the question, it was answered.

Sarah.

Everything and anything always came down to her. He'd lived two years without her presence, barely scraping through, but he'd managed it. But coming face to face with the possibility that he could lose her, forever…

He needed to concentrate on protecting Sarah; everything else was secondary to that. And for once in his life, Chuck's heart and mind were united when it came to the enigma that was Sarah Walker. That Sarah Walker was, and is, everything in his universe. And he would stop at nothing to protect her.

Ignoring his initial misstep, Chuck managed to get into the lobby without a hiccup. A lanky, curly haired guy in a Nerd Herder get-up obviously wasn't on their top ten list of suspicious persons. Scanning his eyes quickly through the quiet lobby, Chuck immediately returned to his determined pacing, heading straight for the stairs, and Sarah's apartment.

Reaching the stairs, Chuck gulped. Using one hand to steady himself on the hand-rail, Chuck leaned his free hand on his knee, distorting his body into an almost question mark like pose. Letting out a long whistle of air, Chuck steeled himself before finally allowing Chuck Taylor to meet stair.

* * *

><p>"Really Miss Walker", the voice of what Sarah assumed to be the ring leader of this little band of merry men boomed directly behind her ear.<p>

"You're making this more and more difficult for us to do this the easy way." The last two words accompanied by a sharp yank on Sarah's golden tresses, that caused her eyes to water in agony, bringing her face to face with her captor.

"And I think you know what will happen if we do this the hard way." The invader continued, flicking a switchblade in the hand not currently attached to Sarah's hair, his stale breath above her so pungent, it almost made Sarah gag.

The man threw Sarah's head forward, hair flowing freely around her face, the back legs of the chair they'd attached her to rocking at the force. From her new position, Sarah could see her legs, attached to the front legs of the chair by plastic cable ties, which Sarah assumed was the device also used to secure her hands behind her.

'_Bugger'_, Sarah cursed inwardly. There was no give in cable ties, not like rope. She'd need to cut herself out of her bonds, and the guys that had put her here in the first place, of whom Sarah had counted four, had taken all of her usual knives. Except the one in her right boot... Not that she would be able to reach it from here, anyway.

"Now," the ring leader began again, feeling that enough silence had passed for Sarah to fully understand the implications of non-cooperation.

"Where is The Codex?"

'_What the fuck?'_, Sarah said to herself, refusing to allow these brutes the satisfaction of hearing her the confusion in her voice. She'd never heard of anything referred to as 'The Codex' in all her time at the CIA.

"I have no idea what you are talking about", Sarah answered nonchalantly, her sapphire eyes burning into the large man's.

Sarah was immediately rewarded with a pistol butt to the face so hard, it caused Sarah's chair to come crashing down to the floor, the side of her head impacting with the plush carpet with a thud.

"CUT THE BULLSHIT", her captor, who Sarah decided looked distinctly like a Bub, shouted, rotting flecks of food and saliva spewing from between his blackened teeth, his face mere inches from Sarah's.

"I know that you know what The Codex is, and its link to The Intersect Project", Bub continued, backing away from Sarah, but placing a swift kick to her abdomen in compensation.

'_WHAT?'_ Sarah's mind shouted to itself, _'This has something to do with Chuck?'_

"And I know that you know where it is", Bub's voice cutting through her internal monologue, a calmer, yet more sinister tone in its possession.

Sarah laughed out loud. She truly had no fucking clue where this Codex thing was, let alone what it was. As if she'd even tell them if she did know.

"Oh Bub", Sarah smirked, her laughter, which had escalated into full-fledged hysteria making it hard for her form a coherent sentence.

"Did your momma drop you on the head when you were a teeny tiny baby? Because you're one of the stupidest people I've ever met." Sarah jibed in a high pitched mocking tone, a mischievous smirk taking over her face as her captor's head suddenly turned into a plum.

"I told you already, I have no idea what you are talking about."

"SILENCE!" Bub roared the veins and arteries in his neck bulging dangerously beneath his skin. Delivering a bone shattering kick to the same place in Sarah's abdomen, Bub reached for the Browning at his back, cocking it the instant it was level with Sarah's fallen form.

"Boss!" One of Bub's cronies gasped stepping away from the door he had been guarding, this was not part of their devious plan.

"The Ring guy said he wanted her alive. You know what happens when someone disobeys his orders…"

'_The Ring…",_ Sarah thought, still coughing, blood splattering the carpet in an artistic fanned pattern, from the earlier kick. She'd heard that name before, but she couldn't put her finger on where exactly, frustrating her to no end.

"FUCK HIM." Bub bellowed, turning his eyes in a death stare towards his terrified colleague.

"I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS BLONDE CIA WHORE! SHE INSULTS ME, INSULTS MY MOTHER!" Upon the last word of the sentence, Bub once again turned his eyes downwards towards Sarah, a blood lust barely disguised behind those pupils she had seen many times before.

This guy wasn't kidding around.

"I'LL KILL THAT WORM DANIEL SHAW MYSELF IF I HAVE TO! I DIDN'T JOIN FULCRUM TO TAKE ORDERS FROM SOME JUMPED UP PRICK LIKE SHAW."

'_So it's Fulcrum…'_ Sarah mused from her position on the floor, the crimson fluid no longer oozing from her nose and mouth.

'_But they're working for these people … The Ring, whoever they are… more specifically a guy named Daniel Shaw…'_ Sarah documented the facts in her head, storing them for later when all of this could become vital intelligence.

That was, if she was ever to get out of this alive.

Suddenly, Sarah felt herself being lifted off the ground, her chair set, wobbling, back on four legs before she felt the cool metal of Bub's Browning digging into her forehead.

Her mind was racing, thoughts of her childhood, the yearly Salvation Army scam, the rocky road ice-cream reward at the end of a job well done, flooding her mind, to be eagerly replaced by that of the CIA, the CAT squad, the countless people she'd killed in the name of the greater good. Then Chuck.

Sarah clamped her eyes shut. Her coming back had potentially put Chuck in danger from these people, these murderers… Clamping her fists behind her back, a lone tear forged its path down her battered cheek.

'_This'_, Sarah's mind wailed, the complete antithesis of her seemingly calm exterior, _'is why spy's can't fall in love. Why didn't I listen? Why did I think I could have it all?'_

Sarah shook her head. She couldn't change anything, however much she would have liked, now. Besides, she'd played Morocco by the book, word for word, and look what had happened there…

Another single tear added its salty trail to its fallen brethren's, although neither was for her. These tears were for one person only. One, for the man she had left without a second glance all those years ago, the second, for the one who welcomed her back with open arms despite her betrayal.

"Boss", the smaller voice from across the room repeated, obviously anxious at his boss' actions. "We need her, the information…"

"There is another." Bub interrupted, annoyance rife in his tone, "Bukowski or Bartowski or something… He has the information too…"

Sarah's stomach dropped, her heart momentarily paralysed. It was as though her worst nightmare was coming true. They were going to kill her and then go after Chuck, with nobody to protect him…

'_Oh God'_, Sarah panicked; the sudden urge to vomit almost over powering her. She couldn't even think about what they might do to Chuck.

"So, Agent Walker", Bub began, that black toothed grin that Sarah had come to so despise twisting his grimy face.

"Any last words before I send you to hell?"

Sarah remained completely silent. The words that Bub had spoken seemed to reach her as if they'd travelled through miles of water – garbled and unrecognisable as speech. The thought of her not being there to protect Chuck when he needed her more than ever the only thing she could put her mind to. That, and the fact that she'd blown the only chance she might ever have to tell Chuck how she truly felt.

If there was one thing she could go back and change…

"Well…" Bub continued after a pregnant pause. "I guess this is goodbye, Agent Walker. I would say it was a pleasure meeting you, but that would be a lie. And everyone knows that it's a sin to tell a lie."

* * *

><p>Chuck made his way quickly and quietly towards the door of Sarah's apartment, using the stealth techniques Casey had taught him to avoid being caught sneaking off to Castle from the Buy More, but it was totally unnecessary. Everything seemed normal... The apartment building looked exactly as Chuck remembered it two years ago, bland and inoffensive – a strange contrast to the lime feeling of the rooms themselves, if Sarah's apartment was anything to go by.<p>

Checking one last time for any sign of proximity alarms or cameras, Chuck sidled up to the door of Sarah's apartment, making sure to keep his body out of the way of the door itself. He'd seen enough spy movies to know what could happen when someone did that.

Getting his ear as close as possible to the door without putting it in peril, Chuck could faintly distinguish two very distinct voices. The first, a man's judging by its depth, sounded impatient, angry almost, demanding. The female voice on the other hand was nonchalant for the most part, calm and slick. Moments later, an unmistakable, angelic laugh from the female confirming to Chuck that it was indeed Sarah, was cut short with the crunch of metal on bone.

Chuck flinched backwards, the images of Sarah being tortured running rampant through his head once again were accompanied by the cacophony his heart had started to thump into his ears. It was exactly what he had envisioned down by the bush, as if the intersect had given him some magical power of foresight like those old sages in fantasy novels.

The unmistakable sound of a gun cocking brought Chuck from his reverie, replacing his fear with an anger, tinged with panic, and the unmistakable cooling sensation that accompanied a rush of adrenaline. Quivering with anger, Chuck stared at the door. He needed to get in there, to save Sarah, but he'd never done anything like this in his life. Sure, he'd seen plenty of guys do it on Cops and had seen Casey do it quite a few times, but he'd never actually done it himself.

Frantically peering around the door to look for any clue as to any structural weaknesses he could exploit, Chuck's eyes suddenly became glazed, darting back and forth in his head as his eyes met the door knob. Chuck felt winded, but powerful at the same time.

'_So…'_ Chuck smirked, elated that something was finally going his way to help rescue Sarah, _'this is what the 2.0 feels like…'_

Slamming his foot directly between the door knob and the frame, Chuck almost sent the door flying off its hinges, splinters of wood flying through the air, into Sarah's apartment.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Chuck heard the man standing nearest to Sarah, holding a gun to her, scream in anger. Three other men in the room simply stared at him in shock.

Chuck locked eyes with Sarah's. She was a mess; her face was severely swollen, with blood streaked like war paint covering her. Her hair was bloodied also, the dark crimson a stark contrast to Sarah's silky golden locks.

But her eyes. When he looked into them they told him something that her body couldn't convey. Yes, there was pain, they appeared slightly bloodshot, perhaps from tears, and there was definitely shock and fear, but there was something else also. Hidden deep within Sarah's azure eyes, behind those layers upon layers of meaning, of feeling, was something so precious to Chuck, he almost smiled in spite of himself at its presence. And that, was hope.

Within seconds, Chuck had flashed, a rush of strength surging through his body as a mixture of kick boxing and kung fu knowledge pounded through his veins. Seemingly floating from his position at the door, Chuck found himself standing directly in front of Sarah's tormentor, his right leg smashing into the man's face in a roundhouse kick Chuck wasn't even aware that he had performed, before sending him, out cold, with a palm thrust to the solar plexus, the man's Browning, which had switched its focus from Sarah to Chuck, somehow finding its way into Chuck's palm in the process.

It was the oddest sensation, and one that was completely different to that of the 1.0. An out of body type experience, Chuck would later describe to Sarah when he'd had time to analyse and recollect. But for now, he rode out the sensation, letting it take him where he needed to go in order to ensure Sarah was safe, that none of these men were going to lay a hand on her any time soon.

Awakening from what seemed to be some form of temporary paralysis, the remaining captors sprang into action, attempting to encircle Chuck and swarm him, but the Intersect was having none of it. Flashing once again, Chuck lobbed his newly acquired piece at the man directly in front of him, the butt of the gun hitting him squarely in the third eye, bringing him to his knees.

The captor to Chuck's left took this moment of weakness to strike. Chuck's right arm, still extended from throwing the gun, was met forcefully at the wrist by the black boot of the man.

Chuck screamed out as an intense shooting pain sped its way up his arm and into the back of his head. But the Intersect continued regardless. Appearing to calculate this new parameter in Chuck's fighting capability, the Intersect halted use of Chuck's right hand, in favour of the left, bringing it crashing across the neck of boot-man, now gasping for breath, who toppled backwards, his legs swept from under him almost invisibly by Chuck and causing him to fall over the back of his already incapacitated colleague. The unanticipated weight of another on top of him bringing gun-guy's chin crashing with a sickening thud into the floor, leaving him unconscious.

The last guy was a bit harder to take down. He'd obviously had some experience fighting hand-to-hand, and wasn't so easily duped as his previous cronies.

'_Time to see what you can really do, 2.0', _Chuck mused, the bones in his neck cracking theatrically as he crunched it to the side.

Chuck's opponent was the first to make a move. He went for right upper cut, but it was badly telegraphed, and Chuck had ample time to weave himself out of danger, setting himself up for the counter. Laying his fist into his opponents ribs, Chuck felt the air leaving his opponent's chest, causing the man to gasp. Chuck took this opportunity to strike again, attempting an attack to the solar plexus similar to that he'd administered to boot-man, but his fist was caught before it hit the target and twisted violently, causing Chuck to stumble to the side.

Now it was Chuck's turn to defend, a flurry of punches concentrated around his face causing Chuck to take the blows on his arms, unable to perform any counter strikes. Luckily, Chuck had had years of experience dealing with bullies, usually having some sort of beef with Morgan, allowing him to realise the potential devastation that could be wreaked on his aggressor due to his wide legged stance.

'_Bingo_', Chuck grinned, bringing his foot to meet the man's groin in a tear jerking kick. Winded, with eyes indeed watering, Chuck's opponent seemed to crumple over, hands firmly planted on his thighs as he attempted to catch his breath.

Using the Intersect to put the poor guy out of his misery, his eyes now fully streaming from the force of Chuck's kick, Chuck performed an axe kick, his heel impacting the back of the man's head, right at the brain stem, before sending him crashing limply to the floor.

Chuck stood completely still, his shoulders raising and lowering with exertion, the unconscious bodies of his fallen enemies strewn on the floor around him.

"Chuck..?" A small voice from the corner of the room greeted him, causing him to turn instantly on his heels, sprinting in the direction of the voice.

"Sarah…" Chuck replied frantically, snapping Sarah's bonds with surprising strength once he reached her before falling to his knees in front of his broken angel.

"Chuck… Where..? What..?" Sarah began, licking her dry, blood caked lips. "How did you..?"

"It's the 2.0", Chuck explained soothingly, his hands gently cradling the side of her face so as not to hurt her.

"A new version of the Intersect that's supposed to teach skills to the user on top of its data recall facilities."

"A new Intersect?" Sarah replied slowly, her head still a little fuzzy from being pistol whipped, her eyes full of shock.

"Yeah…" Chuck whispered, tucking a loose strand of hair softly behind Sarah's ear, the blow to his wrist long forgotten.

"But it's never worked before. Ever. Not properly, anyway… Nothing like what it did just now..."

Chuck glanced behind him into the carnage he, or rather the Intersect, had caused, before returning his gaze to Sarah. The odd lumps of swelling now beginning to paint her face almost breaking his heart.

"Which one did this to you?" Chuck asked, his hands ghosting over her wounds whilst his voice remained quiet despite the anger rising inside of him.

Sarah pointed feebly around Chuck to the man he had disarmed whilst remaining completely silent. Chuck turned on his heels, his eyes boring holes into the face down, limp body of the man who had dared touch Sarah Walker. Delivering two swift, yet strong kicks into the man's ribcage, safe in the knowledge that at least one rib would be broken as a result.

Turning back to Sarah, Chuck turned his features into a sombre grimace, his voice still low and secretory.

"I don't think he'll be hitting anyone else anytime soon. I've heard waking up with broken ribs can be quite painful…"

Sarah agreed a mischievous grin coming to grace her swollen features. If she'd had the energy to get up and give that guy what for, she would have done. Heck, she would have done more than kick him in the ribs, that was for sure. Turning her thoughts back over what Bub had revealed to her before his unfortunate meeting with Chuck's fist, Sarah's expression soon mellowed, a look of cold steel replacing her grin in an instant.

"They wanted something to do with the Intersect, Chuck", her voice also a whisper, a strange intimacy passing between the two as she spoke, Sarah slumped on a chair, with Chuck kneeling before her.

"They were Fulcrum…" Sarah recalled, searching her brain for the name of the other organisation Bub had mentioned.

"But they worked for something called The Ring? Someone named Daniel Shaw..?"

"Fuck", Chuck swore lightly, rubbing his hand across his face, suddenly weary.

"I know him. He's supposedly a CIA Ring expert. Casey and I worked a couple cases with him via video conference a while back…"

"Well, I guess we know where he got his expertise from", Sarah quipped humourlessly, her head sagging between her shoulders.

"Yeah…" Chuck replied absently, getting from his knees to stand at the window.

"We can't stay here, Chuck." Sarah said, breaking the tense silence that had overcome the apartment for the last couple of minutes.

"What?" Chuck replied, turning away from the window and to Sarah, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"They want you, Chuck." Sarah grimaced, the statement coming off slightly more forcefully than she'd intended.

"When these guys don't report in, they'll assume I… Dealt with them… Which means they'll be after you next. Shit, Chuck, if Daniel Shaw is CIA… This means that they know all about you…"

Panic suddenly coursed its way through Sarah's body, almost a reprieve from the constant, dull, numbing pain she felt all over her body. Almost.

"What about Ellie? What about Morgan? I can't just leave them, Sarah!" Chuck almost shouted, surprising himself, and Sarah, at the ferocity of his objection, the atmosphere suddenly becoming uncomfortably edgy.

"Chuck," Sarah stammered into the silence, tears beginning to pool in the corner of her eyes. " We have to get out of here… I don't want to…. I can't lose…"

"Shh… It's okay…", Chuck interrupted softly, his voice as soft and warm to her ears as his hands were to her face. "Where are we going to go?"

"Anywhere." Sarah stated, gently lifting herself to her, now unbound, feet, Chuck's arms instinctively encircling her in case she fell.

"Anywhere but here."

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2: So what did you think? I haven't really written any action stuff before, so any feedback, good or bad, would be great! But more importantly than that, as always, make sure you have a great day :)**


	6. Coming To Jesus

**Coming to Jesus.**

**A/N: I apologise in advance for bringing a certain person with the initials DS into this story, my bad. I have to thank Virgil (by which I mean BillAtWork) yet again for his unwavering support and brilliant ideas. See the title there? Yeah, that's pretty much his. I hope you enjoy the chapter.**

**Oh, and I don't own Chuck :(**

* * *

><p>Daniel Shaw sauntered into the apartment of Sarah Walker, an air of superiority surrounding him as he took off his $100 sunglasses to survey the carnage around him. Of the seven men he'd sent to apprehend Agent Walker, four were dead found around the side of the apartment building, one shot to the head for each, whilst the remaining three lay unconscious on the carpet in front of him.<p>

A chorus of all clears met his ears, nothing more than he'd expected, but you never could be too careful when dealing with the infamous Sarah Walker.

'_Why leave these ones alive?'_ Shaw contemplated, his eyes once again making a sweep of the battered apartment. It definitely wasn't Walker's style to leave anyone who may potentially provide information breathing.

'_No'_, Shaw thought, the gears in his head turning almost audibly. _'This is the work of someone else, of…'_

"They're gone sir." A voice behind him called, pulling Shaw from his reverie.

"So I can ever so plainly see. Thanks for stating the obvious, Michaels." Shaw replied sharply.

He'd pretty much had enough of these Fulcrum bozos and their complete lack of competence. It was what Shaw imagined working in a zoo would be like, you'd spend ages teaching and nurturing the bastards until they shat it all back out right on your shoes. And Daniel Shaw wore an ostentatiously expensive pair of Italian, Prada loafers – he was going to let no-one shit on those.

Kneeling down over one of the fallen Agents, Shaw inspected the swollen shoe mark pulsating on his face.

'_That'_, Shaw mused before slapping the unconscious man into the waking world, _'is definitely too big to be the foot of a woman…'_

Shaw, upon hearing a pained groaning noise, turned his attention to the agent below him. He couldn't remember his name, Daniel Shaw's time was too important to waste it on memorising all the names of the scum he worked with, but did remember the unique, anaesthetising properties of his rank halitosis that slowly, but surely, made its way to his nostrils.

Scrunching his nose in disgust, Shaw grabbed the collar of the now lucid man, cutting off any air to his lungs before it had a chance to slide down his throat.

"What happened here?" Shaw ordered, his tone of voice leaving no question as to who was in charge.

"It… was… a trap…" The man wheezed, his face looking as though it was going to explode.

"There…" The agent continued, Shaw releasing his hold momentarily to allow the fallen man to finish his sentence.

"A man… There was a man… Highly trained… I've never seen anything like it…" the man finished, Shaw finally letting go of his collar, causing the man's head to reconnect with the floor, another groan accompanying it.

'_It definitely wasn't Casey…'_ Shaw surmised, picking up his cell that had just begun to ring. He'd made sure that that problem was a good 2,000 miles away before he'd gone ahead and set the wheels in motion regarding the acquisition of The Codex.

"Shaw… Yes, I understand…" Shaw told his phone, the voice on the other end displaying the annoyance that Shaw was feeling.

"No, that won't be necessary… I'll get the information, director… Yes, sir, I understand…"

'_Damn it'_, Shaw silently fumed, hanging up his phone and squeezing it in his palm. Walker was gone, and although that wasn't ideal, he'd much rather have her in custody… If not for the information she possessed, then, well…

But Bartowski as well? Chuck was the only other lead they'd turned up concerning the whereabouts of The Codex, but that really wasn't surprising considering he was, after all, the Intersect. The second team he'd sent to Chuck's Burbank apartment to coincide with Walker's lip loosening session had arrived, only to find it completely devoid of life. Yes, it was entirely possible that he'd simply popped out to get some milk, but given the circumstances, and the description of what had occurred at his current location, Shaw was pretty certain that wasn't the case.

Shaw sighed and let his eyes take in the carnage once again. Bartowski couldn't do this, not on his own. But then that meant…

'_Shit…'_ Shaw cursed internally. The 2.0 was online, was active. Shaw thought back to his initial meetings with Chuck under the guise of working for the CIA. He'd been ordered by the Ring director to provide reconnaissance on the capabilities of the 2.0, only to discover the project had been an abject failure.

A rush of anger spread across the usually cold, cool Ring agent, the phone in his hand suddenly meeting the wall opposite him, sliding down onto the dresser below it.

"I want a trace on one Charles Irving Bartowski right now! He gets on a plane, I want to know. He buys a burrito, I want to know. He takes a frikkin' dump, I WANT TO KNOW!" Shaw shouted, his phone in pieces on the dresser opposite him. Finding a ghost like Walker a second time may be asking too much, but Bartowski… He'd lead Shaw right to them…

"I'm going to find you." Shaw spat at the photo of Walker and the Intersect sitting toppled over next to the remnants of what used to be his cell. Walking over to the dresser, Shaw picked up the photograph. It was crinkled, well-travelled and depicted a man and woman, almost one entity, that appeared, even to Shaw's trained eye and as much as it made him want to vomit, very much in love.

"And when I do, there'll be hell to pay…"

Admiring the view of Agent Walker the photo gave him, an evil grin started to form on his lips. She was indeed very beautiful… If he could inspire Walker in the same way she'd inspired the 2.0, and by Shaw's own admission, he'd managed, one way or another, to inspire more than his fair share of beautiful women…

"Maybe this isn't such a bad day after all." Shaw smirked, licking his lips as he pocketed the photograph, whistling his way out of the apartment and down the hall.

"Not bad at all…"

* * *

><p>Sarah let the wind blow through her hair as she sped down the Interstate in gay abandon, the breeze was so invigorating and fresh; it felt almost as though the sins of her past were washing away, into the wind. Almost. The thought that she was on the run from a very determined and well-funded nefarious organisation, had access to very limited resources herself, and, had no way to know who to trust anymore, seemed oddly insignificant. At this moment, she felt free, liberated from her shackles.<p>

Besides, she had Chuck with her and she knew that no matter what, whatever predicament she found herself in, emotional, or physical now it seemed, Sarah could trust him to be there. Her mind replayed the words he had spoken to her on the beach, an echo of those she had once uttered to him.

Trust me.

And Sarah did. In fact, she could do a darn sight better than that, but for the first time in her life, she actually trusted someone so completely, so totally, that everything that had weighed on her so heavily for so long didn't seem all that heavy at all anymore. It seemed that Chuck had very strong shoulders as well as a heart of gold.

Sarah slammed her Porsche into 5th gear, easing the clutch back up slowly as the accelerator met metal, enjoying the throaty roar of the engine as she opened it up. Glancing sideways at Chuck, she gave a wry smile, his knuckles white as sheets, palms gripping the dashboard for dear life. At least some things never change – she could still scare him shitless with her driving.

* * *

><p>Chuck was scared out of his mind. To be honest, Sarah's driving, however proficient, was always on or around 100 mph and that, to Chuck's mind, was more than ample. He usually kept his eyes firmly on the road, his mouth shut, and prayed to a higher power that he wouldn't be squished like a bug.<p>

But not today. Despite the fear coursing its way around his body, Chuck couldn't help but let out a small laugh at the sight of Sarah. Her hair was manic; a trail of golden flames flowing at liberty around her, her eyes twinkling in the bright sunlight, almost becoming a sun in their own right. Or so Chuck thought. He was sure they had their own gravitational pull, anyway.

Chuck reluctantly turned his eyes back to the front, looking down momentarily at his ghostly white knuckles on the dash, causing him to release a full on belly laugh. She was back, and beautiful as ever.

'_Definitely Sarah Walker.'_ Chuck smiled, leaning back in his seat and turning towards Sarah. _'Welcome back.'_

"What?" Sarah's voice drifted across to him, her tone mischievous and playful.

"Nothing", Chuck replied, unable to keep the laughter from his voice. "It's just… The reports of Agent Walker's death were greatly exaggerated."

"Really, Chuck? Mark Twain? I was expecting something from Star Wars or Firefly or something!"

Sarah laughed out loud in glee, a sound Chuck was rarely treated to, but one he'd never forget, the trademark Bartowski grin gracing Chuck's features in response.

"Well… I find your lack of faith disturbing, in that case, Chuck!" Sarah continued, the cute slack jawed expression that found itself suddenly on Chuck's face only acting to enhance her laughter as she swerved to avoid a slow moving artic.

"Agent Walker was never dead; she'd just taken a wrong turn in a dark wood, where the straight road ahead had been lost."

But the laughter in Chuck died the moment he looked upon Sarah's beaten face. From his position in the passenger seat, the worst of her wounds were hidden from him, the only clue that she'd been tortured earlier this morning a small cut on the top of her cheek, just below the eye. But the other side… It was a battlefield of bruises, cuts and swelling. The only comparison Chuck could make of the contrast was Harvey Dent, but even then…

Chuck thought back to their escape from Sarah's apartment, his eyes coming to rest on his hands, now placed lightly in his lap. The way Sarah had so coolly killed those men surrounding her Porsche, no hesitation, no indecision, just four quick squeezes and they were gone. Poof. The life extinguished from them as a fire in a vacuum; and at the time, Chuck was indifferent, in fact, on some sadistic level, he was pleased. They'd dared lay a hand on Sarah, they got what they deserved.

But now… Even if they did get what was coming to them and Sarah had done it in as painless a way as possible, everyone deserved some respect in death. Chuck sent out a silent prayer for the four men's souls and their families, if they had any, hoping that with it, some small piece of forgiveness for Sarah and himself was found.

The reality of their situation sunk in like a bag of stones in a river. This was it, make or break. They either got out of this one alive, or they didn't. Period.

Chuck was faintly aware of a slowing of speed, Chuck's eyes lifting from his lap to be greeted by the oh so familiar car park of the Burbank Large Mart.

"Besides, Chuck, isn't making jokes about my reported death, however fictional, just a tad sadistic?" The twinkle in Sarah's eye matched with her amused tone of voice.

"Well, you can't blame a guy for being in a good mood, can you?" Chuck lied, putting on his best imitation of the infamous Bartowski grin, which, luckily, Sarah seemed to have missed.

"Oh?" Sarah replied, dipping the Porsche deftly into what seemed to be the world's tiniest parking space and shutting off the engine before turning herself, bodily, to Chuck.

"And why would that be, Mr Bartowski?"

"Well, Miss Walker, look at things from my perspective. Here I am, the birds are singing, the sun is shining and I'm sitting in a beautiful car sitting next to the even more beautiful woman that I love." Chuck replied leaning in conspiratorially close to Sarah, this time not a tinge of deceit to be found in his tone.

"Can't you feel it too?" Chuck whispered, his warm breath on Sarah's lips causing them to automatically part, a shaky, spidery breath being released in the process as she leaned in closer to him.

'_Now's not the time, or the place'_, Sarah's mind argued with her body. They were, after all, in the middle of a large open parking lot, hadn't even done the slightest sweep for any enemy agents, and were still dangerously close to Shaw and his Fulcrum friends.

"I think I'll defer that question till later, Chuck", Sarah sighed, forcing herself to pull away from Chuck to open the car door. "When we're safe."

"We're never going to be safe." Chuck stated matter-of-factly as he followed Sarah's example and exited the car.

Walking around the Porsche, Chuck met Sarah at the hood, its black glossy paint casting a subtle shadow upon her features.

"But it'll keep till tonight."

With that, Chuck gently scooped Sarah's hand up in his own, their fingers interlocking perfectly as though they had been made for each other.

"So, why are we at the Large Mart?" Chuck asked as the couple walked shoulder to shoulder into said building.

"You'll see…" Sarah replied cryptically, her hand tightening to give Chuck's a gentle squeeze, before dragging Chuck off in the direction of one of the aisles.

"You'll see…"

* * *

><p>Casey was having the time of his life. He looked forward to his annual weapons recertification at Fort Meade more than anything else in the year, he got to get away from the nerd and his lady feelings, use a vast array of hi-tech, powerful weaponry, and, best of all, there was an almost infinite supply of ammo. Not that Casey needed it, mind, he had held the record in the NSA for the highest killsshot ratio for the past 5 years.

Casey smiled to himself, a brand new M4 carbine stripped on the table in front of him, his favourite post shooting range past time. The gun, to him was like an extremely practical form of art. The way all the mechanical components worked in perfect synchronicity and with deadly accuracy was beauty personified, or at least Casey thought. And he dared any Marine to argue with him.

'_Can't beat the good old direct impingement system'_, Casey mused, noticing that this particular firearm, although new, still retained the older, more reliable system over the newer gas piston one, as he lovingly began to reassemble the carbine.

The silence in the room about him filled Casey with a feeling of peace and contentment. One week without the nerd and his incessant talking about lady feelings, whining about how life wasn't fair, yadda, yadda, yadda, was like Christmas to Casey. Yes, every year, Casey sent a letter to 'Santa' and asked for a week without the nerd that involved lots of guns, and strangely enough, every year, good old 'Santa' came through.

Casey grunted a small laugh to himself at his slightly extraneous thought. A short, red-headed, stern general that lived in D.C. was nobody's idea of Santa, except of course for Casey.

"Thank you very much, Santa", Casey chuckled, as much as a man like Casey could chuckle, whilst attaching the optional Grenade Launcher mount he'd found too mouth-watering to leave sitting around, unused, with the Quartermaster. He almost fumbled the AN/PEQ-5 Carbine Visible Laser, playing an impromptu game of hot potato with it as an annoyingly whiny voice met his ears.

"Soy un perdedor, I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me?"

Casey grunted his #4 – angry and in possession of a deadly weapon - at the intrusion. Just when he thought he'd gotten rid of the moron, Chuck had to go and ruin it by calling him, probably about some new so-called life revelation, or to tell him that Morgan had finally succumbed to the horror that was the Mystery Crisper.

"I ask myself that question everyday", Casey grumbled before fishing his phone out of his pocket and accepting the call.

"What do you want, moron?"

"Hi, Casey!" Chuck's perky voice came from the other end of the line, only adding to Casey's annoyance. "How's the weapons recertification go…"

"Cut to the chase, moron. I'm busy. What do you want?" Casey growled, his calm mood quickly flying out of the window.

"I, uh… I'm…" Chuck mumbled, seemingly managing the difficult feat of swallowing his tongue.

"Spit it out Bartowski, I haven't got all day!" Casey interjected, quickly wishing that Chuck was standing in front of him and his precious customised M4.

"I'm going on a road trip for a few days. With Sarah."

"Oh", Casey replied, his usual witty retort at a situation such as this falling silent on his tongue. "Does Walker know you're calling me?"

"Nah", Chuck replied nonchalantly, "thought I'd bite the bullet early and get it over and done with before I forgot."

"Oh. Well then… Have a nice trip. Uh… Keep me up to date with any changes in situation."

"Cool! Thanks Casey, will do. Enjoy firing bazookas and giant guns at life sized Bin Laden replicas or whatever it is you do there!"

"Yeah..." Casey replied absently. "Thanks."

Hanging up his phone and placing it gently on the table next to the now reassembled M4, surprise was evident in his face. Casey wasn't at all sure as to how he felt about this sudden, unsupervised escapade Chuck was going on with Walker. He wanted, much to his own surprise, things to work out for the moron, because despite all his annoying qualities, Chuck was a good guy, and a patriot. And Walker… She'd had a rough time of late. Okay, she'd had a rough time pretty much from the get go, her life hadn't been all daisies and puppy dogs, and even though she kinda brought some of it on herself, she was still the best God damn partner he'd ever worked with.

"Hmm…" Casey replaced over his usually preferred grunt, his eyes wide, an expression of quiet satisfaction coming to rest on his face.

"Good luck you two… God knows your going to need it."

* * *

><p>So, the trip to the Large Mart was less spy oriented than he'd originally envisaged, or maybe just less obviously spy oriented. He'd let his mind wander to imagining Sarah and himself walking out of the Large Mart, trolley full of odd bits and bobs like plungers and can openers that Sarah would miraculously transform into some sort of miniature explosive or low level listening device or something… But in reality, they'd bought what Chuck would deem pretty average in someone's weekly visit to the supermarket. Packaged food, such as Pringles and Beef Jerky that would last a long time and wouldn't need to be cooked, a first aid kit (because Sarah was a pragmatist), assorted toiletries, a change of clothes, which Chuck was surprised at – he didn't even realise that the Large Mart had a clothing department – and various other mundane, but essential items (including a healthy sized bag of frozen peas for Sarah's cheek) had found their way into Chuck and Sarah's trolley.<p>

Chuck sighed, his legs crossed at the ankle in front of him with hands behind his head as he lounged on the bed of the room Sarah had gotten them at one of the seediest hotels Chuck had ever laid eyes on, just outside of Barstow, California.

Shoving his phone onto the rickety bedside table after Casey had hung up; Chuck looked over the room he found himself in. The ceiling was a strange, yellow, nicotine stained colour, the carpet, what was left of it, seemed to be a brown colour, all though at some point in its life, Chuck surmised that it had once been a vibrant red. His eyes swept over to the small bathroom located just to Chuck's left. The sight of moist, steamy air wafting in clouds out of the closed bathroom door brought his mind squarely to the person behind it, and the almost conversation they'd had earlier. He'd let her off the hook, giving her a temporary reprieve from a conversation that, he knew, needed to be had, as much as Sarah had avoided it.

Chuck thought through all the arguments Sarah had ever given him as to why their being together was a bad idea. She said she'd lose her objectivity, wouldn't be able to protect him, keep him safe from harm. But hadn't she realised that fighting this was doing more harm than good? Chuck steeled himself mentally. Tonight he was going to lay it all out on the table, clear the air and make sure Sarah knew exactly how he felt. He just hoped that she felt, at least to some extent, the same way he did.

His eyes still locked on the trails of steam dancing around the door, Chuck faintly heard the water shutting off, followed shortly by the sound of feet padding against tiled floors. Suddenly, the door flung open, a heavenly aura of golden light surrounding a silhouetted figure, tall, lean and distinctly feminine. Chuck gulped. Yes, he'd described Sarah as an angel many times before, but at this moment, he couldn't have meant it any more sincerely. Stepping out of the light and into the bedroom/kitchen/dining room, Sarah's features became distinguishable to Chuck, her soft inviting lips down to her sensually curved hips was all laid bare to him, in Sarah's tiny hot-pant-esque sleep shorts and tank top.

"The shower's free if you want it Chuck" Sarah called, a hairbrush suddenly in hand, removing the inevitable tangles showering brought with it before they could become too much of a nuisance.

"I'm good, thanks", Chuck managed to ramble out at the speed of light, his voice at least an octave higher than its usual tone, his body suddenly sitting totally upright, making him feel like an old wooden puppet.

"If you're sure…" Sarah replied amusedly. Why ever Chuck didn't want to take a shower was beyond her. In a place like this, she often felt as though she needed a shower at least 3 times a day to keep herself hygienic and well-received.

"But this place is pretty skanky", Sarah added, an inkling of mischief evident in her voice, matching the sparkle in her eyes. "Wouldn't want you to get all dirty now, would we?"

Chuck gulped. The way Sarah was standing, okay, so she was just brushing her hair, but man… Could she do it any sexier? Chuck was quickly beginning to rethink his stance on not having a shower, the sight of Sarah, and her there pyjamas doing strange and wonderful things to his body. Chuck shook his head slightly. Here before him was the perfect chance to get everything out in the open, a chance at a real beginning with Sarah, and he was about to ruin it by trying something overtly physical just to please himself in the short term? No. He'd waited over two years to have this conversation, and he sure as hell wasn't going to allow his body the masochistic pleasure of pissing away the opportunity.

"God, I love you Sarah", Chuck blurted before he could attach the brain to mouth filter, a crimson colour rising from his throat to rest upon his cheeks.

Sarah's hand instantly dropped from its position brushing her hair, coming to lie limply at her side, her face innocent and unguarded. Chuck's sudden admission had surprised her, and it wasn't just because of its content. It was the way it had come out of seemingly nowhere, after all, she wasn't doing anything particularly amazing or romantic or anything that would be a precursor to declarations of love - brushing ones hair wasn't exactly all that sexy either.

'_Might as well go the whole hog now'_, Chuck thought, inhaling deeply to prepare himself for the conversation of a lifetime – he wasn't about to let her wave the white flag on this again.

"I know what you're going to say, Sarah, that you don't have feelings for me, can't. But pretending that you don't have those feelings isn't going to make them miraculously disappear, Sarah. Believe me, I've tried, and as much as you try to forget about them, the stronger they get, the more persistent, the more virile, until it consumes every fibre of your being and it's all you can think about. You can't do the things that you used to do, can't go on in the world that used to fulfil you, because you know that there's something out there that's bigger and better than all that. I spent two years figuring it out Sarah, and I know that you've been brought up to believe that love is a hindrance, a disease that'll get you killed, make you a liability in your line of work. But, Sarah… Once you let it out, admit everything to yourself, to the world, God… It feels so good, and you suddenly realise something. That a job is just that. A job. It's not a life, it's not… What's the point of being good at your job if it stops you from being who you are, stands in the way of things that you want for yourself, and stops you from being human?"

"I don't want to fight with you Sarah. I think I once told you I could be your own personal baggage handler", Chuck let out a shaky laugh, the fire in his eyes strangely juxtaposed by the wetness filling in them.

"Let me help you, Sarah, like you helped me so many times before. I love you, Sarah and I make no apologies for it. I love you and I know, in my heart, that you feel the same way, too."

Sarah sighed. Chuck was right. Denying her feelings for him was getting her nowhere, and if the past two years were anything to go by, denial was probably causing her to go backwards instead. Sarah's shoulders visibly slumped. With her back now to him, Chuck couldn't read her expression that was always so evident in those luscious baby blues.

But the arguments were there, and they were just as valid now as they had ever been. Even if she was ready to pursue something… more with Chuck, she couldn't be the things that he wanted, they may have taught her a lot of things at the Farm, but being an honest-to-God girlfriend was not one of them.

"I've done terrible things to you, Chuck and I'm not sure that I'll ever be able to forgive myself for the mistakes I've made, I suppose all I can say now is that I'm sorry. Sorry I never told you how I felt, sorry I ran away from, what was probably the best thing in my life, sorry that I made such a mess of things."

"Sarah…"

"No, Chuck, this is my turn to speak. I need to say this, so you understand. I'm not a normal girl, I doubt I ever will be, and as much as you love me, how long will it be until I come home from a mission that's been going on for too long, taken me to some God forsaken hellhole and you're miserable? I've made too many mistakes, and I don't want to add to my list of failures to protect you, Chuck, I don't want us to take the next step and realise that it was all for nothing, that we're simply incompatible… That the love wasn't enough. I don't know how to be a girlfriend, Chuck, I've never really seen myself that way, even when I played the part for a mission, it was always just a role in an elaborate imitation, a line in a play… And the whole white picket two and a half kids thing? Chuck, I can't… I… I can't just give up who I am in the blink of an eye…"

"Sarah…" Chuck breathed, rising from his seat on the creaky pre-ikea era bed to stand directly behind Sarah, still facing the table, head low as if her eyes had found something infinitely interesting on the carpet. But then again, in a place like this, maybe they had.

"I'm not saying now, now, y'know. " Chuck chuckled, his warm breath erecting the hairs on Sarah's neck as it passed over her delicate skin, her head leaning backwards automatically towards the source of her exquisite torture.

"But soon. When we're both ready, and we will be, then we'll see, together. If you need the time to be the badass world-saving spy you are, then I'll be right beside you."

"No, Chuck!" Sarah almost shouted, swivelling on her heels in an instant to bring her face to face with Chuck. That was the one thing she didn't want - Chuck being hurt even more because of her. Hadn't he listened to anything she'd just said?

"If there's one thing I won't negotiate on it's your safety. I'm kinda neurotic when it comes to that, Chuck…"

"Sarah, when I say we're in this together, I mean that." Chuck replied soothingly, his hands coming to rest on Sarah's arms, which had somewhere in the process become crossed, rubbing them gently.

"Not one foot in the water, one on the sand, but both feet in and in the deep end if necessary. And, by the way, I feel exactly the same way about your safety."

"I was sure you were going to say 'there's no I in team' or something equally cliché then." Sarah answered, her tone soft as Chuck's hands made the arguments she'd had lined up take a backseat in her mind, leaving them in storage as her body moulded into his like a missing puzzle piece.

"Me? Please, I do have some original ideas you know, even if the government decided to commandeer it for their long term storage." Sarah felt Chuck's chin on her cheek retort, his voice echoing her tone.

"Yeah? I guess last night in the kitchen was one of those oh so precious original ideas then, was it?" Sarah grinned roguishly, poking Chuck in the chest so hard it caused him to stumble a step backwards.

"Uh… I… Well…" Chuck stammered, yet again rendered speechless by the magnificent Sarah Walker.

"Actually, I have some stipulations about… How shall I put it..? The more athletic part of our relationship…" Sarah continued, all the while poking Chuck in his surprisingly muscular chest, keeping him on the back foot.

"Wha..?" Chuck replied, his legs now flush with the foot of the motel bed, his last route of escape from the deceivingly solid fingers of one Sarah Walker cut off.

"What happened last night, the whole rejection of blonde CIA agent named Sarah Walker for… Umm… Intimate bonding. Never. Again."

"Yes Ma'am." Chuck managed to mock salute before he felt the soft springy feeling of a mattress hitting his back, two mesmerising blue eyes coming level to level with his, their pupils the size of the moon.

"Never again."

Anything more Chuck was going to say was quickly cut off by Sarah's soft, voluptuous lips burning his own, the heat that passed between them tingling provocatively as Sarah's tongue vied for supremacy with Chuck's, their dance expertly choreographed whilst his eyelids fluttered closed. Chuck already had some idea as to how this would play out, he had, after all, spent the better half of 2 years dreaming about this moment, praying for it almost. But now that it was actually a reality, that the blonde goddess currently doing wonderful and exotic things to his body was really here, with him, it was so much more than he could have ever imagined.

Their tongues continuing to dance as Sarah's hands rubbing sensual circles on Chuck's chest, under his shirt, Chuck could feel Sarah becoming more and more excited as he gently caressed her breast above her almost non-existent tank top that had ridden up so far, it was barely relevant. Chuck grinned, he was pretty sure that Sarah could feel his mutual excitement growing beneath her, in fact…

"Hi oh" Chuck managed squeak out between kisses, Sarah definitely could feel his excitement now, her hands firmly planted south of his waistband.

"I'm. So glad. I didn't. Tell Casey. We'd be. Doing this", Chuck moaned, his sentence punctuated with soft kisses trailing down the side of Sarah's neck, causing her to moan in return.

Suddenly, Sarah pushed herself up on Chuck's chest, and out of reach of Chuck's searching lips.

"You talked to Casey?" Sarah asked, her tone switching to agent mode.

"Yeah", Chuck replied absently, leaning forward towards Sarah in an attempt to capture her lips once more, his fingers playing with the hem of panties.

Ice hit the pit of Sarah's stomach like a tonne of bricks. Her eyes coming to rest on the cell that was now lying innocently on the bedside table, Sarah cursed internally. How could she have forgotten to get rid of the phone? That was practically the first thing anybody would monitor if they wanted you found. Shit…

"Chuck… Please don't tell me you used your cell to call him." Sarah responded, her answer pretty much made obvious by the cell on the table. Maybe he'd just been playing Angry Birds or something…

"Uh huh", Chuck answered, his voice still sounding distant and distracted, "Whilst you were in the shower…"

"Fuck. Chuck get your stuff and get to the car." Sarah exclaimed, suddenly on her feet and in full agent mode.

"Wha..?" Chuck replied, the confusion in his voice spreading rapidly over his face.

"NOW, CHUCK!

That was all the prompting Chuck needed as he sprang from his position on the bed, his phone forgotten on the nightstand as he sprinted towards his bag. Sarah, following Chuck's example, quickly grabbed her keys and bag off the table and flung open the door, only to be greeted by an unwelcome familiar, converse printed face.

"Ah, Agent Walker." The man said, two of his companions securing his flanks. "We meet again."

The feeling of a familiar Browning 9mm came to rest on her forehead.

"Put your hands on your head, Agent Walker", Bub smirked, his teeth seemingly more yellow than only hours before as he limped forwards, a grimace of pain on his face, pushing Sarah back with the barrel of his gun.

"Wouldn't want any funny business, now, would we?"

The last of the Fulcrum agents squeezed into the room, slamming the door closed behind them before training their matching pistols onto Chuck and Sarah as Sarah slowly lifted her hands. Bub paused as he took the time to drink in the appearance of Agent Walker and her barely there lingerie, licking his lips with his putrid tongue in approval.

"So…" Bub began an air of confidence reminiscent of one Daniel Shaw about him. "You planning on doing some night-time driving?"

Bub momentarily took his 9mm from Sarah's forehead to gesture to her chest area before putting it back into what now seemed to be its new holster.

"I see that your high beams are on."

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2: That last line, all Bill. There's much more, tbh, that belongs to Bill, but I felt that that line in particular was pure genius. BTW, brownie points to anyone who caught the Inferno reference, of course in honour of Virgil :D**

**I hope that you enjoyed the chapter and are making sure that you have a nice and, if at all possible, stress-free day. Feedback, as always, is greatly appreciated, and maybe, just maybe the next chapter may finally shed some light on Morocco… and a little thing known as The Codex… **

**T****hanks for reading! :)**


	7. The First Deadly Sin

**The First Deadly Sin**

**A/N: Firstly, I wanted to take this opportunity once again to thank my fabulous beta, BillAtWork for all his work and patience while I played around with this chapter, so, thanks Bill! Secondly, I want to thank all you guys who read and those of you that review, I can't express how much it means, thank you. And last, but definitely not least, I hope you enjoy this chapter and some much needed Charah goodness. **

**Oh, yeah, almost forgot… I don't own Chuck.**

* * *

><p>Bub had never been one who believed in fate. He'd seen too many people who were self-important, lying, cheating bastards reach positions of trust and power to ever believe in that. Heck, just look at that smarmy git Daniel Shaw. No, Bub liked to live his life day to day, because in his opinion, he made his own destiny, no-one else.<p>

And today, Bub had decided his destiny was to humiliate Sarah Walker in front of not only him and his colleagues, but her Captain America wannabe boyfriend too. And he was definitely more than happy to do that, when there was the added bonus of getting to see maybe one of the prettiest women Bub had ever laid eyes on stripping off every last piece…

"Come on, Agent Walker", Bub smirked, pushing his Browning just that little bit harder into Sarah's forehead. "I'm pretty sure you've done this all before, so it should be easy for you."

Bub licked his lips in anticipation. In this industry, it was widely acknowledged, albeit on the hush-hush, that female agents often had to do things to… please… their marks in order to achieve mission objectives, usually lacking the tact, cunning and physical strength of their male counterparts. Or that was Bub's opinion anyway.

It was high time this pair of CIA lapdogs got what was coming to them. It was Bub's duty to ensure that they knew that Fulcrum was on top, were top dog, so to speak. And Bub was well versed into how to make sure no questions were asked on that matter when he was finished.

"My friends and I" Bub said, gesturing to the two men either side of him with free hand, "aren't feeling too… friendly at the moment, we tried that before, and obviously it didn't seem to work."

Bub rubbed his sore ribs with his hand, as if to make a point, scobbing a great hunk of yellow-green phlegm at Sarah's feet before continuing.

"But we're reasonable people" Bub laughed manically and unexpectedly, causing Sarah to flinch at the sound, prompting Chuck into motion.

"STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU FUCKING ARE", Bub shouted, his outburst directed at Chuck, but his eyes staying firmly planted on Sarah.

"OR THE BLONDE GETS IT."

The sound of the two matching Brownings of Bub's less than friendly friends caused Chuck to check his step, holding his hands up in surrender. Satisfied that her nerd in shining armour was staying put, Bub let out a contented grunt, not too dissimilar to that one could imagine being produced by a certain NSA Colonel.

"Now," Bub continued, his smirk growing tenfold as he approached the real business of the evening, "take it off."

The expression that overcame Walker's face was just the reaction Bub was looking for, pain and embarrassment. He wasn't really expecting the level of anger that was swimming around in those piercing blue eyes of hers with it, but you can't have everything now, can you? He was already envisaging the moment in his head, her supple perky bosom, the lithe, lean athleticism of her stomach, legs, all laid bare in their porcelain perfection. Her tight little ass…

'_Finally…'_ Bub thought, licking his lips in anticipation, _'time for a little bit of fun.'_

"No." A strong, determined voice replied, pulling Bub from his musings to meet, once again, the eyes of his captured prey. And if Bub was in any doubt before on the feelings towards him of Sarah Walker, they were instantly swept away by a look that could only be described as acute loathing.

"Fuck you, Bub."

Bub was livid. What fucking nerve did she have to deny him? With the position she was in, she had no movement to bargain, all her chips had been played and sure as shit Bub wasn't going to let this CIA bitch have any satisfaction what so ever.

"Take it off, OR I'LL RIP IT OFF", Bub spat, swiping his 9mm across the face of Sarah, a moment of déjà vu surrounding him.

"No", Sarah repeated defiantly, her head quickly snapping back to look Bub, eyes like fire. Bub could do whatever he wanted to her, but she sure as hell wasn't going to give that pervert the satisfaction of making her his puppet.

"Well, well, well, you've obviously seen though my game, Agent Walker, congratulations." Bub managed, reigning in his anger to put on a thin façade of calmness.

"You must have worked out that we need you alive, clever girl. So let's change the stakes now, shall we? Switch it around a little. Hmm… Let's see… How about, you do what I ask or… Your boy toy here…" Bub continued steadily, his gun switching its focus from Sarah to Chuck, crosshairs aimed directly between his eyes.

"Let's just say, he'll be leaving about… A foot shorter."

'_There',_Bub grinned, he was certain there was something going on between these two, and that was going to be her Achilles heel, his shoehorn into getting Walker to do his bidding, both physically and psychologically.

'_Let's see how she plays this hand.'_

The silence in the room was palpable. Yet again, it was the CIA skirt's eyes that betrayed her. Look anywhere else, this woman appeared cold, unmoving, but the eyes. As the windows to the soul they were often described, and in this particular case, Bub had to agree. The uncertainty and the hesitation that her body did not allow her to show was reflected back at him in glorious high definition Blu-ray.

But the reply Bub got was from an unexpected source, the man, who must, by Bub's estimation be an idiot, with a 9mm pointed at his head.

"Sarah, don't do it. Don't give him the satisfaction." Chuck blurted, holding his ground in what Bub assumed was an uncharacteristic act of bravery, most likely brought on by a sudden rush of adrenaline.

"QUIET! You know what you have to do, Walker, and you know the consequences if you don't. We may need you alive, but the boss never said anything about him."

Bub cocked his gun theatrically as if to solidify the point. He was done playing games, this was the final hand. He was all in and he certainly wasn't bluffing.

"Chuck…" Sarah replied to Chuck, her eyes leaving Bub's face to turn to Chuck, their intense gaze communicating a thousand words in a single glance, letting him know that she wasn't about to let anything happen to him. Not when they'd come this far and had gotten so close.

"It's alright, I…"

"No, Sarah" Chuck stated interrupting Sarah before she could continue, a resolve in his voice she'd only heard once before and in a scenario the complete inverse of this.

There was something akin to the growl of an enraged tiger that followed, emanating from behind the blonde, spikes of a bright white light rapidly following as Bub felt blow after blow connecting with his face and groin area in particular. Bub was powerless to resist or fight back. Every attempt he made at defending himself, launching a counterattack, was quickly and efficiently deflected and evaded again and again, whilst every attempt Bub made in his own defence crumbled like century-old mortar.

"No. No it's not" Chuck panted, the man Sarah had designated Bub once again fallen at his feet, nose just millimetres from his right Chuck.

It was on days like this – when he found himself lying on the floor that Bub was forced to reconsider his stance on fate and its friends. Mess with Agent Sarah Walker and it seemed that you got what was coming to you, forget the odds, forget the element of chance, of feints and bluffs – this was a universal certainty.

'_And this,_' Bub mused in a rare moment of contemplation and clarity as his face was pummelled, yet again into the slightly damp carpet, _'must be karma…'_

Because there was no way that that lanky, lily-livered nerd could possibly take down a seasoned Fulcrum Agent like Bub twice in a row without even breaking a sweat. It just wasn't logical.

Bub groaned again, the feeling of his ribs disintegrating as a foot, once again came crashing into them, caused Bub to vomit violently into the carpet beneath him, that just so happened also to be the resting place for his battered and bruised head. Feeling the jaws of black close upon him like Fangorn Forest, Bub cursed the name of Daniel Shaw and wondered if any of this was worth it.

'_No.' _Bub surmised, just before the unwelcome and familiar blackness engulfed Bub for the second time today, his mind flitting over the events earlier that had landed him in his current predicament - face down on a disease ridden carpet, swimming in a pool of his own vomit.

'_It was definitely not worth it.'_

* * *

><p>Chuck bashed his head against the padded sport seats of the 1967 Ford Mustang Shelby GT500 Sarah had jacked from the car park of the motel – Sarah noting how it was probably Bub's car and how he wouldn't be needing it anytime soon whilst Chuck staggered into the passenger seat, almost in a daze. Sure they'd gotten out of there, but only by luck and another surprise showing from the 2.0, and even then it'd been by a whisker. If it wasn't for Sarah's quick thinking and highly attuned spy skills catching Bub's mates off guard… Well, he really didn't want to think about that and decided instead to be thankful that Sarah always managed to hide at least one deadly weapon on her person at all times. Whatever she was wearing. Sometimes, even two.<p>

Chuck looked over from his position, yet again, in the passenger seat towards, the now more or less presentable in public, Sarah Walker. But it wasn't the same as when they were driving before. Even through the cape of darkness Chuck could see it. Gone was the look of excitement, the joy and ecstasy that had danced about her like the nymphs of Greek Mythology, the jubilance, the gaiety. In its place, the mask had returned, cold and unattached, yet focussed and Chuck couldn't help but feel he was responsible for this change in temperament. Why he'd ever thought it was a good idea to ring Casey with his own cell was beyond him. They were on the run, for God's sake, keeping under the radar. How much more obvious, without jumping around shouting to the world your name, date of birth and social security number, could you be?

So here they were, yet again, sitting in a car, albeit an unfamiliar one this time, Sarah, attempting to break the land speed record in order to keep that one step in front of Fulcrum, whilst Chuck held on for dear life and lost himself in the darkness in his mind. They were so close, they'd laid it all bare, all the hopes and fears, the worries and regrets and now Chuck could only hope that his ignorance hadn't led to the reconstruction of Sarah's walls. It'd taken him years to tear them down, but he was sure they could be rebuilt in mere seconds.

'_And maybe they should be',_ Chuck admonished internally, wishing, not for the first time in his life that the Delorean was real and not just a figment of the imagination.

She'd laid her heart out to him, served it to him on a silver platter, gone against her better judgement and actually confessed her anxieties, only for him to make one stupid phone call that could give her potentially unlimited ammunition in the arguments that their relationship would never work out, that spy and asset couldn't overcome, that love wasn't enough. But she couldn't go back after their talk, could she? Pretend that it never happened?

'_Of course she can Chuck, she can do pretty much anything she puts her mind to.'_

Chuck slumped back once again in his seat, glad that they were the only ones on the road so the headlights of oncoming vehicles wouldn't reveal his beaten expression. He'd do anything to make this right, beg, plead, get on his knees, but he wouldn't just let it go. Not again.

'_Huh,'_ Chuck thought in a rather ironic fashion before releasing a weary sigh, his eyes scrutinising the road as it meandered into the distance in front of them.

'_Sarah Walker really does have her high beams on.'_

* * *

><p>Shaw had had just about enough of this incompetence. Not only did they let that CIA bitch and her boyfriend get away once, but no, they had to go and do it twice, as if they were trying to prove a point. Sure, he could, maybe, forgive them for losing them once; after all, Walker was a highly trained assassin, whilst Bartowski wasn't exactly a resident on Stupid Street either - although the fact that he had actually called John Casey with his own cell had given Daniel Shaw pause to reconsider his stance on that particular matter. But not twice, because in all honesty, Daniel Shaw wasn't exactly a forgiving person, and, if he was honest with himself, he hadn't really forgiven them for losing the blonde and the nerd the first time. Not that he'd tried.<p>

So, upon entering the dank and musty motel room, Shaw was none too surprised to see a scene almost identical to the one that had greeted him upon arrival at Maison23. Except, this time, no gun wounds, but knife. The two agents closest the door had matching incisions running across their carotid artery, the blood splatter from the two arching together on the carpet, creating a butterfly in appearance, a beautiful, if macabre, work of art.

Their leader, the one whose name still eluded Shaw, was the only one still breathing, it seemed.

'_Lucky bastard', _Shaw mused, a shake of his head accompanying the thought, as if in disapproval.

'_At least this gives me something to work with… Heh, maybe he isn't that lucky after all…'_

Shaw leaned over Bub once again, careful to avoid the pooling vomit surrounding the body. Reaching into the pocket of his black Versace suit jacket to retrieve his favourite switchblade, Shaw began flicking the blade in front of Bub's face as an incentive to re-join the waking world, the quick swish and flick oddly therapeutic.

This was the perfect opportunity to get this whole Codex mess back on track, get the director off his back and get back to the more important things in life – women and expensive clothing, cars and gourmet restaurants.

The rhythmic swish of the switchblade in front of his face not rousing the downed agent, Shaw decided a change of tactic was in order, and he'd had his fill of being nice today. No, now was a time to show how far he was willing to go, show these pretenders that he didn't have any boundaries and that failure wasn't an option.

Plunging the 3 inch blade into Bub's left shoulder, low enough not to cause any permanent bone damage - Shaw needed this guy alive, at least for the time being - and high enough to ensure no interference with cardiothoracic functions, Bub was brought back into this realm with a growl of agony followed by a swift right hook aimed directly at Shaw's perfect, if you asked him, jaw.

Catching the fist with his left hand before it could make contact and mar his perfection, Shaw twisted Bub's wrist, attempting to invert the positions of the radius and ulna, another painful reminder of who was in charge and who had the upper hand, so to speak.

"What happened here you worthless bag of shit?" Shaw spat, dropping the man's arm, replacing his hand to the hilt of his switchblade, still buried in Bub's shoulder.

Bub groaned in response, the pain overwhelming every other sense, turning Shaw's words into useless, garbled garbage. The feeling of his head once again being tickled by an unforgiving fist soon brought Bub back to his senses, his eyes doing a somersault in the process.

"Shaw…" Bub managed to moan, his throat feeling as though it had been used to test the sharpness of razor blades.

"Yes it's bloody me." Shaw interrupted his hand twitching on the handle of the switchblade just itching to give it a quick twist.

"Now what the fuck happened?"

"It was… impossible… the speed…" Bub replied, licking his lips that had suddenly become extremely dry.

"There was nothing we could have done… I…"

"BULLSHIT" Shaw barked, slowly but surely twisting the blade impaled in Bub's arm, a wry grin erupting on his face as Bub screamed in agony.

"I need you, for the moment, and for that reason, and that reason only, you get to live. But the moment you become expendable…"

Shaw left the threat hanging, surmising that the imagination was a better vehicle of fear in this particular instance as he ripped his blade from Bub's shoulder, employed Bub's shirt as a makeshift towel to remove the blood before returning it to its home in his pocket.

"I need you in the field." Shaw said, lifting himself to his feet, brushing invisible lint from his still perfectly pressed jacket. If he could have it any other way, he would. That Fulcrum bastard was becoming more and more of a liability the longer he stayed alive and there was nothing that Daniel Shaw enjoyed more than taking care of liabilities. Besides, he hadn't got to try out his new peeler. He'd broken the last one on some CIA chump erroneously professing to be the intersect. Man, he'd had tough skin.

"When I contact Colonel Casey, I'm going to need someone to track down any leads, namely Walker and Bartowski and as much as it pains me to say, that means you. For some reason they decided to leave you alive, making you the only Fulcrum agent that has seen them alive in over 2 years."

"_Well_", Shaw scoffed, looking over the bodies of the useless, dead agents, _"the only one still breathing."_

"You want a shot at the bitch, Walker? I'll make it so you can't screw up next time, figuratively speaking of course. Once you get her, and I get the information, she's all yours. Do what I know your perverted mind wants to do to her, make her beg on her knees for it, scream for it, whatever, I don't care, as long as you get her."

Shaw turned swiftly on his heels, the handle of the door now grasped within his palm.

"Just remember what I said" Shaw reminded, turning his head momentarily to the downed agent, whilst pulling the still warm blade conspicuously from his pocket.

"One more screw up… I won't be so kind."

The sound of the motel door slamming was the last thing Bub heard as he rested his head, once again, on the rough, moist carpet.

'_This day just keeps getting better and better.'_

* * *

><p>Sarah dragged her bag into the motel room, the excitement of the day finally reaching her, to the point where she felt like death incarnate and to top it all off, she needed another shower.<p>

'_Well'_, Sarah thought, trying her hardest to make the best of a bad situation, _'at least this place has a dry carpet…'_

The room was pretty much identical to the last, yes the floral motif of the wallpaper was slightly different, the ceiling was carpeted and the bed appeared to be from this century, which was a bonus. All in all it wasn't exactly comfortable, but workable, and that's all it needed to be. A perpetual optimist might call it perfect for their needs, but even then it was a stretch, and to be honest, Sarah had never met one of that breed in her life and she had met, and been, many types in her time.

Sarah dumped her bag on a small coffee table that sat off to the side of the room next to a small, old and yellowed kettle, which sat upon it as if to reinforce the table's purpose, mocking her for using it for an ulterior purpose - to house her bag and not a steaming hot cup of Joe.

Dropping herself on the end of the bed, Sarah rubbed her eyes with her palms and sighed. She couldn't believe that she'd been stupid enough to forget to throw away all electrical items Chuck might have had on him. Okay, electrical items that Chuck would definitely have on him. His phone should have been the first thing on that list, followed by the wrist watch/GPS tracker, which, she'd made sure to crunch under the tyres of Bubs Mustang as they beat a hasty retreat from Barstow.

But Chuck had saved her. Twice. The man that usually screams like a girl in the face of danger, wants no part in being a superhero, put his life on the line to save her. Sarah Walker, Jenny Burton… Sam… It's not like Sarah hadn't met men before that were more than capable of bringing down an assailant, "protecting her virtue" or whatever, she was partnered to Bryce Larkin for long enough, for God's sake. But with Chuck it was different. Yes those other men might say that it was all for her, that they did it in her name, but in reality, it was never the case. With Bryce it was always about the mission, but with most of her previous partners it was about the status, the bragging rights. Chuck… He did it all for her. Pure and simple, because she knew that as a rule, Chuck ran from a fight. Not that he was cowardly, not that at all, he'd just find a more cloak and dagger way to bring down the enemy, non-lethal of course, using his brains, not his brawn.

There was nothing comparable between Chuck and those other guys, because at the end of the day, with them, it all boiled down to lust – the first deadly sin – and glory whatever would get them on top, quite literally, at the end of a hard day's work. Yes they were charming and mostly handsome, but selfish, and none of them could hold a candle to Chuck. Because he knew how to love, more specifically how to love her, and although she might not have a clue how to return that yet, she had the best teacher in the world to learn from. And she was a quick study.

So when Chuck defied all that to save her, to protect her, despite putting himself in danger, which they was definitely going to have a chat about later, she couldn't help but feel a little turned on by it all. In fact, a little was such an understatement, it was almost sinful.

The sound of Chuck closing the door, his bag hanging limply in his hand as she let her own palms fall from her face, Sarah could see the regret in his eyes, the worry and guilt she'd seen so many times in the mirror. Her saviour, her protector and Sarah, surprisingly, had no problem with that.

Lifting herself from the edge of the bed and padding her way over to where Chuck stood, slump shouldered, a statue by the door, Sarah lifted her soft, delicate hand to caress Chuck's cheek, his harsh day old stubble against her hand the binary opposite in texture. His deep chestnut eye's darted upwards, searing into her own as if looking for answers he couldn't find elsewhere, as if words were meaningless and shared glances and gazes was the only form of communication. Rising onto her tiptoes, Sarah brought her face level with Chucks, planting a light kiss to his lips, despite the pain still throbbing its way through her face from Bub's earlier ministrations.

The touch of his lips on hers was an instant stimulatory aphrodisiac, Sarah's eyes fluttering closed as she let the feeling consume her. Even in his state of shock, with minimal initial reciprocation, Sarah felt herself becoming more and more excited, lust blinding her, but if this was the consequence of lust, Sarah Walker would gladly pay the price tenfold in receipt for this electric sensation.

A thud emanating from her left side, quickly followed by Chuck's hands tenderly caressing her neck, her cheek, the spot just below her ear that only he knew about but drove her crazy caused Sarah to grin mischievously against Chuck's parted lips, taking the opportunity to nip the lower one playfully, eliciting a moan from her very own guardian angel.

"Sarah…" Chuck mumbled through the kisses, Sarah continuing to attack Chuck much in the fashion of that night in the kitchen.

"Wait." Chuck said, gently pushing Sarah away from him, gasping to catch his breath.

Sarah almost screamed with frustration. Didn't he understand what she was trying to say? What her body was aching to tell, but mind wouldn't allow to cross her lips? Lowering her head slightly, her brow slightly furrowed, Sarah took a moment to see things from a different perspective, from Chuck's point of view.

Not only had she left, something that many of Chuck's insecurities in their relationship returned to and something she couldn't blame him for, but Jill had too. He'd opened his heart to three women in his life – one of which was his sister, so Sarah couldn't really include Ellie at this particular juncture – and two of them had thrown it back in his face. As much as Sarah wished she could change her past, wished that time travel wasn't just something out of those movies Chuck adored so much, she couldn't. But she could ensure that it never happened again, would make it her mission from this point on, because Chuck deserved it. Because Chuck needed it.

Chuck remained silent through her period of contemplation, their bodies and minds so in tune, they knew every beat and half-step, every little tick without consciously realising it. It's not like he needed to say anything anyway; his bright, vibrant russet eyes speaking volumes.

'_It's strange'_ Sarah mused, once again lifting her hand to Chuck's warm cheek.

'_We could sit in a room, full of silence, yet utter a million words, have a lifetime's worth of conversations, just by looking into each other's eyes.'_

But some things… Some things need verbal confirmation, as if the expulsion of air perverted by the larynx somehow made the feelings more valid, more tangible.

'_And'_, Sarah supposed, _'maybe it does…'_

And this was one of those occasions. Not that that made things any easier. Sarah licked her lips despite their being sufficiently moist, a stalling tactic to help fight the nervousness that was bubbling its way up from her stomach.

It didn't work.

Not that Sarah knew exactly what she was scared of. She'd admitted to herself, a long time ago, that she had fallen for Chuck, probably somewhere after he fixed her phone and before he began diffusing bombs with computer viruses. It's not like she's never said it before, she said it to her dad many times, to her mother…

Was she scared of rejection? That this was all an elaborate hoax, some sort of sadistic Truman Show playing with and monitoring every event in her life for entertainment? Of course her mind turned to Morocco, always Morocco, but Sarah quickly put those thoughts and memories to the back of her mind.

Sarah shook her head. She'd just told herself their eyes could convey the thoughts, the feelings, that could never be captured with words, and here she was, nervous that it was all a lie. It was, by her own admission, ridiculous.

"Chuck…" Sarah whispered, her voice shallow in volume, but deep in feeling.

Sarah reached for Chuck's hand, grabbing onto it as soon as her fingers found his for reassurance. A gentle pressure squeezing her hand the final touch needed to bolster Sarah's resolve.

"I love you, Chuck."

Sarah was instantly rewarded with the infamous Bartowski grin, erupting onto Chuck's face like Vesuvius to Pompeii, his face completely engulfed in mere seconds.

"I love you too." Chuck replied, the smile never leaving his face, until his lips came crashing down onto Sarah's, this time him being the aggressor.

Sarah couldn't help but giggle as she was picked up and thrown down onto the bed, Chuck following closely behind as he continued his assault on her senses, his lips working magic all over her body as his hands fiddled around the hem of her tank top, tickling her taut abdomen.

Slowly, Chuck slowed his fingers, letting them linger protectively over her, guarding her from danger, being a draught excluder to the polluted outside world, and surprisingly, Sarah was fine with that. It was exactly as she had realised earlier, Chuck wasn't protecting her from the things that she could see, the drug dealers with semi-automatics, the terrorists with IEDs but the things that were unseen. The emotions and the confusion and pain that often came with them.

"I know that talking about these things scares you", Chuck said to her, his voice soft yet managing to hold a gravity that instantly caught Sarah's attention.

"And I know that you said you can't change who you are, not that I'd ever want that, I'd never want you to change who you are for someone else, even me. Anyway, I need to make sure that you know, before we go any further, that I'm in this for the long run, the whole 9 yards, complete with picket fence and the family dog… Peaches III… I don't know how we'll get there, or when, and we will, but that doesn't really matter. Because it doesn't mean anything without you."

"I love you, Chuck" Sarah repeated hoping that her tone left none of her reply in question, the feel of the words on her tongue better than anything she'd ever tasted before, but a taste that evolved, it seemed, every time she said it, never getting old or familiar.

"I love you. I think I might like the sound of that, Mr Bartowski… Someday…"

The return of the Bartowski smile causing Sarah to attempt her own, if inferior, imitation, her eyes twinkling beneath the dim light of the glowing motel sign, a beacon in the midnight darkness.

"Now" Sarah continued her voice lowering to a growl as she pulled Chuck's t-shirt, and Chuck with it, towards her with both hands.

"Chuck. I've waited 4 stinking years." Sarah stated, the air around her becoming cold and frigid, the best imitation of X-Men's storm Chuck had ever seen, and he'd been to Comic Con more years than he could remember, being performed by the one and only superspy Sarah Walker.

Balling his t-shirt in her fists, the sky blue varnish on her nails in stark contrast to the white of his t-shirt, Chuck found his face only millimetres away from Sarah's, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

"Bed. Now. Clothes. Off."

Chuck barely managed a strangled "Yes Ma'am" before his shirt was forcibly ripped from his body, the offending garment being tossed haphazardly on the floor beside the bed.

"I never really liked that shirt anyway, Chuck" Sarah half murmured, half growled reminiscent of a lioness eyeing up her prey.

"Come to think of it… I don't really like those pants either…"

"Thank you God", Chuck murmured as Sarah's lips found his collarbone, her hands fumbling with his belt buckle.

"Thank you!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2: Yeah, yeah, I know, I said that Morocco might be revealed this chapter and it's not. Sorry guys… y'know, maybe the next chapter, probably? Yeah… Sorry! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and are having a nice day! Feedback is always appreciated :D**


	8. The Road to Morocco

**The Road to Morocco**

**A/N: Hey guys, hopefully you haven't forgotten this story! I'm sorry it has taken me sooo long to update. I know it's a terrible excuse, but I'm going to have to blame life. So much stuff, so little time! But isn't that always the way? Anyways, I want to take this opportunity to thank, once again, my genius of a beta, BillAtWork, the true brains behind the operation, for all his hard work. It truly is greatly appreciated. And, y'know what? While I'm on a roll, I'd like to thank all you guys also, who read and review. You make it all worth it **

**After that mammoth of an author's note, here's the chapter, and for me, it's quite a beast. I know I've been teasing you guys with this one for quite a while now, so I hope it lives up to expectations… If anyone had any, that is! **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Chuck awoke peacefully to the late-morning sunshine, so archetypal of the California summer, the activities of the night before keeping him contentedly asleep until the sun had nearly found its zenith. Squinting his eyes at the sun as it streamed through the crack in the curtains, he wasn't sure who had drawn them last night, but he was sure glad they did, Chuck looked down upon a halo of blonde hair splayed haphazardly across his chest, the trademark Bartowski grin coming into full force at the sight.<p>

Last night had blown all his expectations out of the water, and he had been dreaming about this day since he first laid eyes on his angel. It had been beyond incredible; Chuck couldn't really believe it had happened. He kept wanting to lift up the covers, take a sneaky peek, just to check, but his better judgement overcame his childish fantasies. Besides, he had an imagination, he could always visualise. The other reason, and the one that was definitely the most important, was that he didn't want to wake Sarah. The way her head rested on his chest just so, a perfect fit if ever he'd seen one, the tension in her face had disappeared, leaving a childlike innocence in its place, to Chuck, was magical. And, of course, Chuck remembered from the time they were cover dating, Sarah wasn't really a morning person.

He had to laugh at himself. There weren't many times when you could call Agent Sarah Walker innocent - Chuck had seen her take down guys with a pair of chopsticks, seen her reduce huge thugs twice the size of her to whimpering babies - but this was one of them.

Chuck sighed contentedly. If he could stop time and live in this moment forever, he would. But the laws of space-time wouldn't allow him that luxury, and he wasn't Harry Potter, so Chuck made sure he committed to memory every single thing about this moment. The way the curtains were allowing the sun to peak in, the way her soft hair tickled his chest, the feel of her cool silky skin against his…

'_Yep'_, Chuck thought, the smile never leaving his face, _'this must be heaven…'_

* * *

><p>Sarah couldn't have slept better. In all her time as a spy, she'd never slept as soundly as she had before she'd embarked on the life of mystery and government sanctioned crime. But being in Chuck's arms had made her feel safe, at home. It wasn't just because she was tired out from their… workout… earlier either. She'd been with Bryce in situations not dissimilar to this one and had felt nothing but cold emptiness once he'd had his fill and the adrenaline had worn off. Being with Chuck was the total antithesis. He was warm, a melting furnace to her cold and ice-filled heart - filling her with that warmth and love, so that she never wanted to let go.<p>

A sigh from the person beside made Sarah freeze, not wanting to give away her waking state to her partner and possibly end this perfect moment prematurely. She felt the duvet move slightly over her, being pulled upwards, the movement of a hand, perhaps, being extricated from the depths to seek daylight.

She couldn't believe it. After all the fight and all the half-assed reasons why they shouldn't be together, couldn't, Sarah wasn't sure she wasn't dreaming. Only the warmth beside her and the rhythmic movements of Chuck's surprisingly defined chest let her know that this was reality. In all honesty, she was dying to peel back the covers, peek underneath, but she knew that that was probably a bit childish. She was a spy, for God's sake. She could find a much more subtle and amusing way of making Chuck blush.

Biding her time, enjoying the feeling engulfing her in Chuck's presence, Sarah laid in wait. She had the perfect move, one that would let Chuck know that she had left all her insecurities at the door and, both symbolically and physically, that everything she was, was unequivocally his.

Turning her leg ever so slightly, bringing out years of training in order to keep Chuck oblivious as to her movements, Sarah created what was going to be an anchor for the sheets as she turned from her side and onto her back. The added bonus, although it also increased the risk factor of being caught, was that her leg was currently intertwined with Chuck's, giving her extra purchase on said sheets, allowing her to rip them fully from his person and the majority from her with it being, to the untrained eye, merely a pleasant coincidence.

Just the smallest move from Chuck and…

'_Bingo'_ Sarah grinned to herself as Chuck repositioned the arm she currently had pinned underneath her, whipping the sheets from above them in one fluid motion, feigning a stretch and yawn at the last minute to give the impression of sleep-filled innocence.

"Mm…" Sarah mumbled, her voice thick with sleep and eyes hooded as she once again turned to face Chuck, this time leaving the sheets well and truly behind.

"Good mornin' Chuck."

Sarah couldn't help but let out a small laugh at the expression on Chuck's face. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning, his eyes practically hanging out of their sockets whilst a crimson veil quickly masked itself across his face from neck upwards.

"Buh-ha..?" was the maximum Chuck could reply at this point. Not only had his mind turned to jello at the site of Sarah's perfect…ion, but he suddenly found himself forcibly attached at the lips to said perfection. Not that he minded one bit. He actually was rather enjoying the experience.

"You're an evil woman", Chuck teased after catching his breath, his hands coming to rest on the bare hips of one Sarah Walker, who had managed to lever herself on top of him in the midst of their duel in a move oddly reminiscent of the night before.

"Is that so, Mr Bartowski?" Sarah replied, her voice breathy in his ear as she leaned down provocatively to nip his ear lobe.

Chuck bit down on his lip, trying to quell the feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

'_Two can play that game'_, Chuck mused, before flipping Sarah onto her back whilst gaining himself the upper hand.

Grinning down at the beautiful figure below him, Chuck couldn't believe how lucky he truly was, and how in tune with each other they were. Okay, so they'd only been together one night, one amazingly spectacular night that will go down in the annals of history as the greatest night of Chuck Bartowski's life to date, but still only one night. Yet it felt like they'd been together for eternity. Old souls, or something like that, brought together through each life, destined to be together again and again. Star-crossed lovers, as Shakespeare would say – and that wasn't a bad thing.

"Oh" Sarah smirked, her tone playful and mischievous. "This is so on, Mr!"

* * *

><p>Lying in the comforting arms of her Chuck, Sarah rushed to catch her breath, a post-coital glow surrounding her like a divine aura, enveloping not only her person, but Chuck's as well. Chuck was battling a similar lack of breath, the perpetual grin never leaving his face, a permanent feature for the last 14 hours, that despite the length of time it had been displayed, never lost its novelty.<p>

It probably wasn't that good of an idea to squeeze in an encore of the nights festivities, they'd lost precious time on their run from Fulcrum, and that despot Daniel Shaw, but Sarah couldn't much bring herself to care. The experience was too fulfilling, too life affirming to deny, and they didn't know how long they'd be running from Fulcrum. Sure, they'd get Casey on the case as soon as possible, but even then, Casey was just one man. One man against an army.

Sarah sighed, bringing Chuck's arm across her stomach in an act of pseudo protection. She hated the way her mind wouldn't let her just let things be, just stop analysing for one and live in the moment.

'_But'_, she supposed, _'that's probably what's kept me alive so long…'_

"We really shouldn't have done that, should we?" Chuck's voice echoed into the vast blanket of silence that had overcome the room.

Sarah turned her body, angling her head to look directly into Chuck's eyes. What she saw there was pure, unadulterated love – or what she believed that looked like, never before having experienced such a thing - tinged with recognition.

She shook her head lightly. Sarah knew exactly what he had meant, she had, after all, been thinking exactly the same thing mere seconds before. No regrets, bar the one that caused them to leave the security of their uncharacteristically comfortable motel bed.

Chuck returned the sigh that had left Sarah's lips just moments before, stroking her arm gently before slipping his feet off the side of the bed, garnering Sarah with a perfect view of his lean and muscular back.

"This whole situation…" Chuck began, his shoulders sagging as Sarah propped herself up onto her elbows.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I can't be thankful enough at the opportunity that this has provided us with…"

Chuck paused, taking a deep breath to strengthen his resolve and finish his piece.

"It's just… What about everything else? What about Ellie and Awesome? What about Morgan? We're running away from something, and rightly so, but…"

Chuck faltered again, his head falling, looking at the carpet, his shoulders even more slumped than before.

"It's okay, Chuck" Sarah soothed, bringing her hands under his arms and around his chest, meeting just above his heart, simultaneously resting her head softly on his shoulder.

Chuck exhaled a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding, grasping Sarah's hand in his, giving him the reassurance to continue.

"I can't do it to them. Especially Ellie…" Chuck continued, his voice becoming more and more panicked by the second.

Chuck turned his head to face Sarah, wanting to convey to her the importance and the gravity that leaving Ellie without a word would entail.

"You know what happened with my Mom… and then my Dad," Chuck said, his voice descending back to its usual timbre, taking on the softness often associated with, in Sarah's experience, the recall of past events, hell, she'd had to recall the events of Morocco to the company shrink so many times, it was almost second nature to her.

"I can't do that to her, Sarah… Arrgh!" Chuck fumed, running his hand through his hair in frustration, startling Sarah in the process with a noticeable flinch.

"I'm sorry…" Chuck apologised, holding his hand out to Sarah, which she keenly took within her own, linking their fingers as she came to sit beside Chuck.

"I know it's hard, for you, Chuck" Sarah replied, nudging his shoulder slightly. "I can't say I understand, because, well, you know my Dad and all… But once we get out of here, get a pre-paid phone, maybe get to an internet café, we can get back-up, get Casey... This could be all be over before we know it."

Sarah tried to put across a tone of optimism and jollity into her voice, but she was afraid her attempt was futile. She didn't believe any of what she'd just said herself - Fulcrum, for all of their faults, it seemed were an organised enemy, knew at least the basic spy skill set, probably more - so why would Chuck?

The tone of Chuck's eyes reflected his, and her own, scepticism.

"If we only knew what they were after. At least then we'd have something to work towards, y'know? Instead of just running away blindly from God knows what."

Chuck kicked blindly at the carpet in frustration, oblivious to the change in disposition Sarah was currently exhibiting.

"Wait…" Sarah stated, standing from her position on the bed to begin pacing the length of the room in all her naked glory.

"One of them said something… Before, when they were at my hotel room…"

Sarah put her hand to her mouth, biting her knuckles, trying to recollect what exactly Bub had called it, and it was definitely an it whilst Chuck waited patiently, mouth only slightly agape at the nude spy before him, perched on the edge of their now cold bed.

The convex..? The convent..? The Codex… That was it, Chuck! The Codex!

"Chuck!" Sarah shouted hurriedly, ceasing her pacing to turn and face him head on, only to be greeted by the spasmodic and unmistakable site of Chuck mid-flash. Only this one seemed to go on longer than any Sarah had seen him experience before… Much longer.

Chuck continued in flash for what seemed an eternity, losing his balance at one particular, what seemed, intense moment, springing Sarah into action, dutifully holding him upright as he rode out the storm that was this particular flash.

As Sarah knelt, facing Chuck, his face contorting in shapes that were oddly reminiscent of pain, she began to panic.

What if this was some unpredicted effect of the intersect on Chuck's brain? Sarah's hands unconsciously tightened their grip on Chuck, whether for his sake, or hers, was uncertain.

'_Come on, Chuck',_ Sarah pleaded mentally, willing him to make it through this monster of a flash in one piece.

'_I need you to get through this…'_

As soon as Sarah had hung her head, letting her mind turn to the morbid as it most always did at times like this, Chuck's eyes flew open, a mixture of weariness and clarity swirling within those hazel orbs.

"Chuck…" Sarah whispered, her mouth suddenly becoming extremely dry.

"Oh my God, Sarah…" Chuck replied after a moment, seemingly catching his breath after such a rigorous mental work-out, his eyes boring straight into hers in such a manner, it made Sarah feel even more naked than she already was.

"I know what it is…"

* * *

><p>The images flew through Chuck's mind at what seemed like the speed of light, the density of the information was immense, so heavily compacted, Chuck had never experienced anything quite like it in all his time as the intersect. He couldn't even really see the images, usually there was some sort of visual recall involved in intersect flashes, but this was way too quick. It seemed all that was unnecessary anyways, the data, the nitty gritty of the flash was definitely imprinting itself in his mind, as clear as the sky on a summers day, and as lovely as that was, Chuck wished the majority of its contents wasn't.<p>

Sarah definitely wasn't going to take this well.

Sucking in a breath as soon as the flash finished, what felt like mere milliseconds after it began, Chuck scrunched his eyebrows upon seeing Sarah kneeling before him. Wasn't she halfway across the room when she'd mentioned the Codex?

Shaking off his confusion for the time being, Chuck continued to stare directly into those beautiful, unique cerulean oceans of eyes Sarah possessed, eventually managing to put words into sound.

"Chuck…" Sarah's voice barely met his ears, the sweet nectar a seemingly more potent ambrosia than usual to his now throbbing ears and head.

"Oh my God, Sarah…" Chuck breathed, the realisation of everything he'd just learnt hitting him at that moment.

"I know what it is…"

Chuck squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head in the process to try and alleviate the fuzzy, cotton-filled feeling that had overcome him ever since the flash. That, and trying to shake up the information like a magic number 8 ball, hoping the conclusion would mystically transform into something positive rather than the perpetual and constantly infuriating, 'the future is unclear', or 'something interesting will happen'. Chuck almost scoffed; as if those things didn't happen every day anyways, the majority without the divine intervention of a small black and white ball.

Unsurprisingly, his attempts were nothing but futile, and, if he was frank, not particularly advisable when suffering from what seemed to be the mother of all headaches. He wasn't sure how much Sarah realised he knew about what had occurred on her fateful assignment in Morocco, but Chuck was sure that she really didn't want to relive that whole experience. He'd been in the company long enough to know how spies were with their personal feelings, and how they dealt with them, and, Chuck used this word tentatively, failure. They didn't. Period.

'_Well…'_, Chuck corrected mentally, placing one hand upon Sarah's arm whilst bringing the other to gently rub his temple, _'unless they're ordered to, of course…'_

But how could they avoid it now? The information regarding The Codex was too conspicuous, too obvious to be misinterpreted, probably because the guy that invented the piece of shit invention that the most nefarious gang of 5th columnists ever to set foot on US soil was after them for was too much of an egotist to not put his name in practically every single page of intel on the blasted thing. But there was still something missing…

"Fuck." Chuck stated simply, his voice weary and pained.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Why did the name have to be Mark Austin? Of all the 6 billion people scattered across the globe, it all came back to the one point in time that Chuck, and more to the point, Sarah, really wanted to forget. Any other name, and he'd have taken it. Adolf Hitler. Myra Hindley. Emperor Palpatine…

"Chuck?", Sarah asked tentatively, unsure of what to make of this language, so out of character for him.

Chuck couldn't bring himself to look Sarah in the eye. His head felt like someone had haphazardly deposited a tonne pebbles into it, only slightly because of the customary post flash headache. He'd just have to grin and bear it. Put the ball into her court. What she did with it there, that was up to her, and Chuck sure as hell wasn't going to push Sarah into revealing anything she didn't want, or feel comfortable to. Not on this.

Chuck sighed audibly, licking his lips in anticipation for the inevitable shit storm that was going to descend as soon as he uttered those two words.

"It was Austin." Chuck paused, hoping Sarah would be able to piece together his meaning without having to utter another syllable, but the look of confusion on the face of the usually sharp Sarah Walker wasn't going to let him off so easy.

"Mark Austin…"

'_And now, if that wasn't hard', _Chuck mused, cursing the God that decided the normal range of torture methods wasn't good enough for one Charles Irving Bartowski.

'_Time for the punch line…'_

"Sarah, he stole the Codex…"

Sarah's face contorted into a myriad of different expressions, much, Chuck would later realise, must be what it looks like to the outside world when he flashes. First there was shock, then anger, which what Chuck was pretty much expecting, but it didn't finish there. Each minute movement of the muscles in Sarah's face, it seemed, garnered her features with a different expression, many of which Chuck had a hard time placing a name to, but the last one… That he did know the name of.

Regret.

Chuck'd spent the better part of the last 2 years stuck in that funk. Actually, it was probably more accurate to say the better part of his life.

Getting to her feet, pulling the sheets from the bed and wrapping them snuggly around her, a safety barrier between herself and the world, and began pacing the room once again, the pace painfully slow, so distant from the agile and vibrant Sarah that Chuck had fallen in love with, Chuck was hard pressed to recognise her.

"Oh…", Sarah breathed, the noise a ghostly whisper that sent chills down the back of Chuck's spine, despite the warm summer sunlight still attempting to break its way into their now not so cosy room.

Chuck let the word hang in the turgid atmosphere, filling the room with a smog so thick, it was almost difficult to breathe. What could he say to make this any easier? Nothing, was the answer. Absolutely, positively jack shit. The best thing he could do for her now was to stay quiet, let Sarah process the information. But damn it if he didn't feel like a jerk for just sitting there uselessly, much like a lemon.

Sarah continued her pacing, halting in her step at random intervals, opening her mouth as if to say something, only to close it again, much like her pet goldfish, and return to her wandering reverie.

She couldn't wrap her mind around it. Sarah had been pretty good at building emotional barriers during her time as a spy, and even before that, when she was with her dad running con after con, never letting the people in one town, one school ever get too close to her real emotions, to the real Sam…

But the walls that she'd put around this, around Morocco and Mark Austin were always a bit shaky. The mortar wasn't quite up to standard, and the laying of the bricks themselves was in dire need of attention from the get go, so much so that the mere mention of that fateful name was enough to bring it crashing down at her feet, forcibly trapping her in the debris rather than keeping everyone else out.

She'd told herself a million times over that if she could do it all over again, she'd do it differently, do it better. But Sarah knew that it was all a lie, an attempt to placate the part of her that refused to fail and the small part of her that was still in denial over the whole... Incident… She'd done everything as she'd been told, by the book so to speak, exactly as spelt out to her by the Director.

"I never intended things to go the way they did. Never." Sarah sighed, her arms coming to cross in front of her stomach, her eyes intent upon them.

"But, I guess, there are some things in life that you just can't control…"

"Sarah, you don't have to explain, I…" Chuck interrupted, the sincerity in his voice perfectly echoed in his eyes and body language as he moved to push himself off the bed and to Sarah's side.

"No, Chuck", Sarah interrupted forcefully, her eyes like ice, directing a stare of cool intensity upon him. She'd carried this around with her for too long, it was time to clear the air, get everything out in the open, much like Chuck had described it earlier. Only this wasn't something she wanted to do. This was something she had to do.

"I have to do this." Sarah repeated verbally, nodding her head slightly in confirmation before returning to her seat next to Chuck on the bed.

"I got this assignment the same day I left Burbank… I was on my way back to Washington, still on the plane, when the Director briefed me… I remember he looked more rugged than usual, less put together, which was a relief because I probably looked the same way, although the Director didn't have bloodshot eyes and mascara tracks…"

"_Agent Walker, I hope you're debrief regarding reassignment from The Intersect Project by General Beckman went smoothly" _

"_Yes Sir" Sarah nodded, an involuntary sniff escaping from her, evading the tenuous grasp of her spidery fingers as they attempted to pull it back in._

_The Director paused in his studies of the paperwork littering his usually immaculate desk, glasses perched on his nose, to draw his scrutinising attention directly upon the heartbroken agent._

"_Is everything alright, Agent? You look… Well, to be frank, like shit."_

'_Yeah…' , Sarah thought with as much amusement as she could, at this point, muster, 'right back at ya.'_

"_I'm perfectly well Director." Sarah lied knowing full well nothing about her at this moment was that mythical thing of 'perfect'._

"_Everything is fine. Just a little tired." Sarah added, just in an attempt to divert suspicion from the real reason for her puffy panda eyes. _

"_Yes, yes… Very well", the Director replied sceptically, pushing the glasses that were now almost hanging off his face back up his nose. _

"_Under your seat you'll find the details of your next assignment. It's in Morocco and is regarding a very… how should I say..? Sensitive piece of intelligence that may become imperative to the safety, not only of the United States, but of her allies also."_

"_Understood, Director" Sarah replied nonchalantly, leaning down to retrieve the papers that had been hidden in their customary, yet awkward place. It wasn't exactly like this was her first rodeo, the intersect project was pretty much the most highly classified project in the whole of the country. Eyes only kind of stuff. This was probably child's play in comparison. _

"_Good. This asset has been troublesome in the past, hence the passing of responsibility of handler to you, Agent Walker. I want you to make sure he gets everything he wants, Walker. Everything."_

_Sarah's head snapped up from the file of one Mark Austin she currently had lying gently upon her knees. Everything? _

'_Fuck…' Sarah thought, a small sadistic smile playing on her lips at the irony of her choice of words. It wasn't as if she hadn't done these kinds of things before. She'd actually done it quite a bit, as most female agents seem to, in the early days, something her male counterparts referred to as something sufficiently sexist like 'earning your stripes' or some shit. All those times she hadn't given it much of a second look. Her country was bigger than her self-pride and self-worth, so the decision hadn't really been all that hard. But now? This soon after Chuck? Sarah didn't know if she could stomach it, if things went that far, didn't know if she could put on a convincing performance for the audience of one._

"_Agent Walker?" The Director asked, once again fixing her with a bewildered look, tinged with curiosity. "Do you understand what I'm telling you?"_

"_Yes Sir…" Sarah replied tentatively, the need to lick her lips becoming unbearably comfortable that she had to pause in her small sentence._

"_I understand."_

"_Excellent. All the information you need should be in the file provided. Are there any questions, Agent Walker?"_

_Sarah flicked through the papers on her knees, most of the intel was redacted, useless, especially that regarding the device she was supposed to be there to help protect. _

"_Umm… Sir?", Sarah began tentatively, the Director's finger hovering ominously over that unseen button to end the conference call._

"_Yes, Agent Walker? What is it?"_

"_This file has no information on the device that I'm being assigned to protect. No name, no information on its capabilities, not even what the thing looks like."_

"_That is correct, Agent Walker."_

"_But Sir, how can I…"_

"_All the information that is pertinent to your task is in that folder, Agent. Your primary task is to ensure the co-operation and safety of Mr Austin. All other concerns are secondary to that, do you understand?" The Director dismissed ,perhaps slightly more harshly than he intended, which he regretted._

"_Yes Sir, but…"_

"_Good. I'm glad we understand each other."_

"_Good luck in Morocco, Walker. I've heard the tagine is spectacular."_

_And with that, the director was gone, the screen that once depicted his strangely intimidating disembodied, it almost seemed, head, suddenly silent and dark where it had once been so vibrant. _

'_Great', Sarah fumed, throwing the useless file onto the chair across from her, sheets of loose paper billowing out of it only to come floating, not unlike the snowflakes of the Swiss Alps, frustratingly serenely to the ground, adding their small, yet significant piece to the ever increasing entropy of Sarah Walker's life._

* * *

><p><em>Sarah Walker had never been to Morocco before. Of course she'd heard the tales of Europe meets Africa, of east meets west, that most of the Maghreb countries boasted, but in her experience, despite how much research you do on a country, how many words on a page you assimilate, nothing ever comes close to actually being there. <em>

_The smells that hit Sarah's nostrils as she sped past the market stalls that littered Marrakech were a sensory bombardment of rich, pungent and aromatic flavours that reminded Sarah faintly of one of those boutique-y, Paper Street Soap Company-esque, soap stores mixed with the spice and scent of London's Brick Lane curry houses, reminding her of a particularly interesting mission involving the creative use of poppadums, Sarah knew Chuck would just love… _

_Except he wasn't here. And she was alone. Again. _

_The euphoria of this vibrant and lively place, personified in the colours the chatter of the gathering crowds around the stalls in this more traditional, old fashioned and forgotten part of the city, oozed out of Sarah, remaining in the market whilst she sped into the distance, down the road, and into the never-ending emptiness that supposedly led to her destination. Sarah's melancholy was reflected in her thoughts; she was fully prepared to see a pair of giant legs protruding from the landscape, the most inner circle of hell, yet the only way out._

'_Why this is hell, nor am I out of it.' Sarah mused, shrugging off the criminal mismatch of literary works she'd just committed as she descended into the darkness._

_It seemed mere moments later that Sarah finally reached her destination, a small Berber town called Asni, just outside the metropolis of Marrakech in the shadow of the Jbet Troubkat Mountain, which by local standards, she understood, was renowned for its multitude of con-men and hustlers. _

'_Just like growing up', Sarah thought as she stepped out of her ostentatiously out of place Aston Martin DB9 into the dirt that comprised the road. Another great piece of work by the CIA at remaining incognito, it seemed, in fact, Sarah would have pegged this more for the NSA than CIA, so maybe it wasn't all that bad after all._

_Sarah sighed, slamming the door of the DB9 behind her, glancing up and down at the worn down carpet store that stood before her. The place was a mess. The paint work looked as though it had been completed in the 1800's and then never tended to again, the sign was falling off, the shop now being called 'he maic carpe' rather than its original name of, from what Sarah could make out, 'The Magic Carpet'._

'_Now this', Sarah said to herself as she opened the creaky door, the bell over the doorway chiming her entrance, 'is more like it.'_

_The inside of the 'shop' was in complete juxtaposition to the outward façade. The place was immaculately clean; carpets hanging from the walls and rolled in neat rows were precisely hung and placed, much more in the style of a US government substation. Obviously they'd picked a more experienced team than the one that'd decided to give her an Aston Martin in the middle of donkey-ville, but… You win some, you lose some, even when it comes to the CIA. _

_Walking further into the substation, the evidence of bugs and audio/video devices beyond the usual spectrum for a place like this began to show themselves; to the trained eye that is. A GL5000 placed covertly on one of the hangings, only being visible to the naked eye at a particular angle, an FR700 on one of the display cabinets. The sound of shuffling bought Sarah's attention snapping in front of her, towards the back of the store, where a shadowed figure now stood. _

_A male, tall, around 6'2" if Sarah had to estimate. He was lanky, most definitely not muscular, but not stick thin either. As the sun was released from its cloud guarded prison, the light it gave shone brilliantly into the small windows of the store, lifting the atmosphere, and gifting Sarah a view of the person who stood between her and the unassuming entrance to the CIA bunker at the back of the store. _

_Sarah gasped. Blinking her eyes to dispel this tortuous illusion, the person in front of her becoming ever clearer to her, although whether that was a good or bad thing was debatable. _

"_Hi", the figure said, stepping forward ever so slightly, bringing himself further into the light whilst holding out his hand in greeting._

"_I'm Mark. You must be Agent Walker."_

_The hair, the eyes, the physique… No amount of blinking on Sarah's part would change the uncanny similarity between this man and the one she'd left at home… No, damn it, in Burbank._

"_Yes, that would be correct. It's a pleasure to meet you Mark", Sarah replied stoically after a pregnant pause, which, luckily, this Mark Austin seemed to have missed. They say that the more things change, the more they stay the same. In this case, Sarah was inclined to agree, the resemblance of this Mark to Chuck was uncanny. _

_Closing the distance between them to shake the proffered hand, Sarah took a furtive glance at her new asset's face. Now she was up close, the features that looked so much like Chuck's from a distance, were easily distinguishable from that of the Human Intersect's. _

_His eyes, for example. Sarah noticed that they were dark, almost to the point of being completely black, whilst Chuck's were always more of a chocolate brown, hinting on the edge of green that never failed to leave her drowning in their vast oceans. _

_And his smile. That had nothing on that grin that always lit up Chuck's face whenever she failed to understand one of his and Morgan's many Star Wars references, or even just when he came to have the ever delectable home cooked, Sarah Walker's Wienerlicious corn dogs, 9 times out of 10 burnt to a crisp. Sarah would be the first to admit that she wasn't, by any stretch of the imagination, the world's greatest chef. But Chuck always seemed more than happy to eat the offending articles. Even, on what they'd jointly termed a 'black day', in honour of the nicely charcoaled crust of the wieners - he'd smile the same way on a 'golden day', but those were few and far between, much more rare. Compared to that, this imitation Chuck's attempt at a smile was feeble. In fact, Sarah wasn't sure whether it was even sincere._

"Wait." Chuck breathed gently, surprise etched in Picasso, cubist style across his face. "You like my smile? I always thought it was kind of on the cusp of dorky nerd slash creepy pervert."

Sarah couldn't help but chuckle. Of course that was the first thing he'd pick out. And how could anyone think his smile was anything but adorable, not forgetting frustratingly infectious to boot.

"Yes, Chuck", Sarah replied in mock exasperation, "I like your smile. In fact, I find it kinda sexy…"

Sarah turned her attention towards Chuck, the offending smile just coming to full bear, a glint in her eye that Chuck hadn't seen since their escapades the night before.

"Aaand…", Chuck drawled, pulling out the vowels in an overly theatrical, sports commentator style, "I've got a doppelganger, awesome!"

As soon as Chuck finished his sentence, Sarah's face fell into that all familiar empty closed off look Chuck'd been fighting since day one. Why'd he have to be such an idiot and open his big trap? This was another one of those Delorean moments that seemed to keep cropping up with alarming frequency. It wasn't as though he didn't know the story, know the tragedy of it all, he was just an idiot with a Stanford degree, it seemed. Go figure.

"Sarah, I'm so sorry, I…" Chuck began to ramble, before being cut off by the woman now sitting dejectedly by his side.

The two sat, their bodies statues in the silence, for what seemed, to Chuck as comparable to the length of time it'd taken Morgan to finally finish Mass Effect 2. And that was a very long time. It was Chuck's turn to attempt a goldfish impression, his mouth opening and closing again repeatedly, failing to find the words to make everything okay again. But seeing as it was his big mouth that had gotten him into this mess in the first place, maybe his lack of words was for the best.

Sarah knew that Chuck hadn't said what he had with the intention of hurting her. In fact, it was the complete opposite, he was trying to diffuse the tension, make this all easier for her to tell, she understood that, and was, in the most part, thankful for that. Chuck wouldn't be Chuck if he didn't do those little things that most people overlooked or purposely ignored. So why did his words hurt so much?

A gentle rubbing of her knee brought Sarah out of her thoughts, focussing instead on the hand that was inviting her to grasp it, and never let go, offering itself as her anchor to reality, reaffirming to her that this was all real, and that he was here, and as bad as it sounds… That he wasn't that person in Morocco and that this was all retrospect.

Snatching up Chuck's hand with her own, feeling the warmth of his skin filling her with a renewed strength, Sarah turned, once again to face her interrogator, her lover, her confidante.

"I did exactly as I was told. Exactly what Graham told me to, Chuck." Sarah mumbled, her fingers tracing absent circles into Chuck's palm as she resumed her narrative, the breath in Chuck's throat hitching as wonderful shocks of electricity tingled their way throughout his hand.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?"

The intensity in Sarah's eyes expelled any doubts as to the meaning of her words that Chuck might have had. Not that he did. Nodding, so as to avoid the inevitable verbal faux pas he would commit, Chuck stilled Sarah's wandering fingers, gently intertwining them with his.

"But it was empty. It was a means of getting complete co-operation, there was no feeling in it… It was just… Empty…"

"_Agent Walker…" Mark's voice emanated breathily from the adjacent room, what Sarah now knew to be the bedroom of her one and only asset. _

_Sarah paused mid-step, the hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention as she cringed internally. She'd heard that tone of voice before, many times, although it didn't take a genius to figure that out in this case._

_Standing completely still in the small hallway that attached itself to the bathroom, two small bedrooms, a larger study/base of operations that once made up the kitchen, and the carpet store frontage, Sarah fought to find an answer to Mark's call that was sufficiently obvious as to her lack of intentions, but polite enough to ensure that the boss didn't get any reports of her 'failing her duties'._

"_Uh, Yes, Mark? Are you alright?" Sarah shouted from where she was standing, afraid that moving closer, or in fact into the bedroom would only confirm, what where only at the moment, suspicions. _

_Satisfied that her answer was adequately non-committal, Sarah began a quick walk towards the bathroom, feigning the need to freshen up, have, perhaps a bath, even if it was just for 30 minutes, might be just long enough to give her new asset second thoughts._

"_Sarah. Could you come here for a moment?" Mark breathed to her once again, the smile on his face audible in his words._

"_I could really use your… Umm... Ass-istance…"_

_Sarah cringed once again, her hand stilling on the bathroom door handle, prepped as it was to pull her into the relative safety of the restroom._

'_Bollocks', Sarah whispered to herself, her eyes closing slowly as she inhaled a long, hard breath, a sadistic part of her almost bursting from the innuendo her mind had created regarding the simple and vital process of breathing._

"_I'll be there in a sec, just gotta go use the facilities, okay?" Sarah blurted, suddenly finding herself in the room in question, the door slamming to a close behind her. _

_But the time alone, the solitude of those precious few moments, wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. The gleam in the brand new, floor to ceiling, white bathroom tiles, reflected her guilt 1700 different ways, guilt at an act that she hadn't even performed yet, but one that she knew, unequivocally, that she'd never forgive herself for. _

_Sliding her back down the closed door, Sarah brought her knees up to her chest, her arms hugging them as if life depended on it. What choice did she have? Graham had been as clear as her reflection in the tiles was now, she was to do whatever it took. In a world that was full of grey areas, of shades of colour blurring the lines, in this, there were none. _

_She wanted to scream in frustration, but knew the effort would be futile, and only serve to notify Mark that things were getting to her, that she wasn't the unflappable agent that she used to be. Instead, Sarah used the towel rail as an impromptu punching bag, the hollow crack of knuckle on metal failing to provide that satisfying weight and 'poof' that was she so much associated with a punching bag. _

_Sarah swept her way out of the bathroom, her feet and demeanour betraying none of the hesitation and guilt bubbling beneath the surface of her carefully constructed façade. She never let her legs falter, knowing that stopping now would leave her legs stuck in metaphorical quick sand, the brain would make the neurones fire, sending that tiny electrical impulse shooting down towards her quads, hamstrings, calves… But they wouldn't answer. Refused. Insufficient funds, they would reply. And so her step was strong, rhythmic, mesmerising, bringing her swiftly to the doorway, to her asset, and into whatever fantasies he might have, because she had to do whatever it took. _

"_Mark?" Sarah called, reaching the doorway only to find, much to her relief, that the bed, and the room, it seemed, was empty – the sheets on the bed betraying no evidence of foul play or tampering. _

"_Mark?" Sarah called again, her guard being roused as she entered the room slowly, each foot passing just in front of the other, hands poised to retrieve her favourite Smith & Wesson from its home at the small of her back. _

"_Where are you?"_

"_Agent Walker…" The voice came from behind her, causing her to pivot instantly on her heels, gun coming to bear just as she locked eyes with the presence behind her._

"_Sarah." The voice, her asset, Mark, continued huskily, un-phased by the large hand gun currently pointing itself directly at the man's heart, the barrel literally centimetres from his, what Sarah now realised, much to her dismay, was bare skin. _

'_So much for hoping he needed help changing a light bulb', Sarah thought to herself, wishing that on this occasion, her gut hadn't been right. _

_Uncocking and returning her gun to its rightful place, Sarah took a step backwards, maintaining the polite amount of personal space required by common etiquette for a person, exactly like Mark, that you'd just met. _

"_Is everything okay? You said you needed help?" Sarah asked as politely and innocently as she could, hoping that this Chuck look-a-like didn't just look like Chuck, but also had the same degree of chivalry and awkwardness around women that Sarah couldn't help but find adorable._

"_No, Sarah. Is it okay if I call you Sarah, Sarah? Everything is not okay." Mark replied, sharp and to the point, with a hint of lust that was reinforced by the movement of his tongue sliding slowly across his bottom lip. His eyes were too dark to read, Sarah had decided. Not at all like Chuck's, so open and vulnerable, kind and forgiving… With Mark, she'd have to take every cue from his body language._

'_Not that that', Sarah mused to herself, glancing down at the growing protuberance in her assets pants, artfully masking a retch as a hiccup, 'was any problem at the moment'._

_Mark closed the distance, his fingers ghosting over the buttons of her blouse, toying with them as he spoke into her ear, his voice a mixture of smug satisfaction and arousal._

"_Isn't it amazing how far the US government is prepared to let its Agents, its faithful defenders, just for a piece of technology, hmm?" _

_Sarah stood stock still, eyes closed, the cool breeze now hitting her chest like water released from the dam indicating to her the fact that her blouse was, indeed, being removed. _

"_If I'd known just how… Committed US intelligence agents were before… Well… Let's just say I'd have defected much earlier, if you know what I mean…"_

_Sarah wanted to be sick. Whatever illusion she could have made for herself to make this whole ordeal bearable had just been shattered. This Mark was nothing like Chuck. Not one bit. Mark had pretty much told her that she wasn't going to get away with anything less than the whole 9 yards tonight, and though it made her physically ill to think about it, it all came back down to that one question._

_What other choice did she have? It was just them, there was no other female agent, no Carina to come and save the day, to protect her honour and enjoy herself doing it. _

_So, she'd give him what he wanted. She may be a bit of 2x4 in the process, but Mark would get what he wanted, Graham would get what he wanted and the whole world would be ecstatic and grateful._

"_Why the reluctance, Agent Walker?" Mark asked, a glint in his eye making Sarah no less uneasy with the current situation, his rough, coarse fingers all the while working their way down her blouse._

"_Something on your mind? Don't worry," he laughed, bringing his face level with Sarah's, his lips ghosting hers as he spoke, "I'll make it so you forget all of your troubles."_

'_Yeah, right', Sarah thought, sarcasm lacing them like arsenic spiked wine as the blouse was pulled forcibly from her and she was propelled backwards onto the plush cushions and sheets of Mark's king-sized bed. _

_Never had Sarah thought that the particular war-time saying that was currently running rampant in her head was more apt. If she was English, that is._

'_Lean back and think of England', Sarah scoffed. _

'_Lean back and think of England indeed.'_

* * *

><p>Chuck didn't know what to do, what to think, what to say to make sure that Sarah totally understood how he felt, where he was coming from. Okay, so he was angry that she'd do something so… intimate with this person she hardly knew, with her asset, what he had been for so long and yet she'd never given an inch.<p>

Not that he could really complain about that now, Chuck supposed. He got it.

Kinda.

She'd had orders, the way she spoke about what had happened, which Chuck was eternally grateful to her for, she could have, of course, neglected to tell him anything… extra-curricular, so to say, about their relationship. She was a spy, her life was cocooned in a web of lies and misdirection, so for Sarah to tell him this, was big. He got it. He might not like it, but he got it.

This realisation, however, did nothing to help his current predicament. Sarah could read him like a book, she probably already knew, better than himself, what he was feeling, and talking really wasn't going to help his cause. He'd screwed up, recently, on that front, and another self-inflicted wound was the last thing Chuck wanted at the moment. He'd got enough of those, at various stages of repair, already.

But saying nothing? Was that really the answer? It wasn't being supportive. Or was it? Chuck wanted to tell her so much how he understood, that these things, in her line of work, came with the territory, that, despite the pain it caused him, and as horrible as this sounded, this was nothing worse than what she'd already done to him. In his life, there was one person to whom Chuck could attribute the most painful and the most beautiful moments of his life to. That person, for better or for worse, was the tired, uncharacteristically weathered looking beauty before him.

Looking upon her now, Chuck knew that any argument as to his feelings towards Sarah, towards what she had done, were juvenile and futile. As much as he may want to, and as much as other people may tell him if they knew, he couldn't just turn off his feelings for the one and only Sarah Walker. She was his life, and without her, he was nothing. Nothing but a computer nerd living with his sister in Burbank, when the rest of his class had made it big, gotten careers, made something of themselves. No, not even that. He was empty. She was Han to his Chewbacca, creating an almost symbiotic relationship, which was stronger, more versatile than the mortal coil.

The thought brought a small smile to Chuck's lips, his eyes glistening in the light of true realisation.

Now, finally, he actually got it. The facts had been processed, the data analysed, and Chuck had reached the following conclusion: That whatever Sarah did, whatever obstacles may be thrown their way, he'd be there. Hadn't that been what he'd been doing for the last two years anyway?

Chuck locked eyes with the anxious pair scrutinising his every silent movement. He wanted to express all that he'd finally understood, everything that couldn't be said, because words lacked the eloquence, the necessary finesse to articulate, in his eyes. The same way her eyes were the portals into the mind, the thoughts and feelings of Sarah, he wanted her to understand. And, not to be scared of what he might think, because she never had to be scared again. He'd never let anything happen to her, ever again.

* * *

><p>Sarah couldn't bear to continue, the guilt, the pain that was coursing through her body almost made it physically impossible for her to form and expel the words waiting on her tongue, waiting to cause more pain to the one person who'd ever waited for her, the one person who'd never hurt her. The one person who'd she'd hurt more than anyone else in her life.<p>

So why was he grinning like that? Not a grimace, like Sarah had imagined, but a genuine smile. One of contentment, of peace…

What the hell?

She'd just told him that she'd slept with another man, one that she hadn't even known for twenty four hours, one that was in the same situation as they had been in when she'd pushed him away… And all he did was grin? In silence?

"Chuck…" Sarah began tentatively, her curiosity at his ease getting the better of her, despite the apprehension that was still flitting through her body.

"Sarah", Chuck breathed in response, the smile never leaving his face as he sat, without a care in the world, it seemed, beside her.

"Are you okay? I… I'm so sorry, I know what I did was… I'm not going to defend it, I know, at the end of the day, it was my choice, I didn't have to let him do what he did… I could have stopped it… I could…" Sarah babbled, matching Chuck's lack of verbal eloquence.

"No." Chuck stated, the strength that Sarah had shown so many times before manifesting itself, for once, within him.

"No, you didn't. You did what you had to do. I never want to you to feel like you need to apologise to me for anything that isn't your fault, Sarah. Graham sent you there, he told you to give this Mark what he wanted, whatever he wanted. If it's anyone's fault, Sarah, it's his."

Sarah didn't know if she could have ever dreamt a better response to what was one of the biggest regrets of her life from the one, and only, man she'd ever loved. He truly was too good to be true, although she knew that Chuck was probably still being his usual self, looking out for her feelings before taking care of his own, letting those niggles eat away at him until they finally came spilling out in a Vesuvian eruption of emotion. If he was going to take care of her, then she sure as hell was going to do the same thing for him, even if she had no clue where to start.

"Chuck…" Sarah repeated again, her voice soft as she reached her hand to his cheek, the unshaven, morning stubble greeting her hand with tiny, exquisite electric shocks at each follicle.

"It's okay to be angry, to be hurt. It's okay."

Looking back into his eyes, Sarah saw little sign of the pain she'd accused him of hiding. There was something. At the very back, a small corner of his eye that wasn't quite… Wasn't quite as alive as the rest. Rather than reflecting the light that gave Chuck that aura of perpetual jollity, they absorbed it – a lone quasar in the midst of a nebula – and Sarah couldn't help but feel she was the one responsible for it.

"Sarah. I love you. What do you want me to say?" Chuck said, his tone matching Sarah's note for note.

"Maybe I don't particularly like what you had to do. Maybe you are right, maybe things could have occurred differently. But they didn't. I can't live in the past anymore, Sarah, I did that for two years, it was many things, but healthy, it was not. And I don't want you to either. We don't live in a perfect world, I understand that. Perhaps thing are easier for 'normal' people, but, Sarah, I don't know how to get you to understand this. For me, you are it. I… Don't want normal, don't want things to be easy, because the things you fight for are the things worth keeping, the things that truly matter. This…" Chuck stated, using his hands to gesticulate slowly around himself.

"This is what matters, Sarah. I'm not going to let one silly little thing, which wasn't even your fault, and which is obviously making you feel like shit, ruin this. I love you, Sarah. Always."

"Chuck…" Sarah repeated once again, an impressive imitation of a record that had seemingly become broken within the past 5 minutes, evidence of tears beginning to pool in the side of her eyes, her hands still holding his face in a gentle embrace.

"I love you too. But…" Sarah drawled, the tears trailing salty tracks down her porcelain cheeks being accompanied by the classic sniff-chuckle combo.

"You have to promise me that in this thing that we have, this relationship, you take the lead. That you'll be in charge, because, Chuck, if you haven't already guessed, I suck at relationships. Seriously suck."

Chuck's face lit up almost literally at Sarah's use of the word relationship. Never had she seen such an extreme reaction to one singular, pretty passive word. But then again, when Chuck did something, he never did it by halves.

"Are you sure? Cos, y'know…" Chuck began, his hands coming to rest upon Sarah's hips, rotating her gently so he could better appreciate the love of his life.

"My sister once told me this thing, this little saying. She said: set a bird free, if it doesn't return to you, it was never yours to begin with. If it returns to you, it's yours, forever. Forever, Sarah, and everything that goes with that."

Chuck made sure he emphasised just how serious he was, repeating to a woman who lived in terms of days and weeks, never of months or years, let alone lifetimes, the one word that was of utmost import.

Forever.

"Forever…" Sarah whispered contemplatively, rolling the word around on her tongue, getting a taste for it.

It tasted sweet, like honey, irresistible and moreish. The word forever had never tasted so good, in fact, before, it had never tasted good at all, but rotten and decaying. Sarah hadn't really thought in terms of forever before mainly for that fact, and, of course, you never really knew where tomorrow was going to take you as an agent of the US government. But things were different now. She felt, for the first time in her life, that she actually had a purpose, beyond being a disposable doll for the government or being used in her father's schemes and cons. This was something that was important, a matter of life and death, and it was something that she had control over. Something, for once, that filled that gaping hollow space in her chest that actually made her happy.

Yes, she'd put on an act of defiance of unwilling when Chuck had mentioned the word 'children'. Sarah'd never pictured her life being anything apart from the current mission and the next until she got too old to be effective and got sat behind a desk, or she had a good old meeting with the Grim Reaper. But Chuck just had this way of changing everything you thought you ever wanted, and showing you something so much better than you could ever have dreamed.

With Chuck, her dreams had, indeed, changed, Sarah had ceased being greeted in repose by dreams of that glorious capture, of the best way to take down a particular target, rising through the ranks of the CIA singlehandedly. They'd become a different beast completely. The capture was replaced by a pair of glimmering, glistening rings on her left ring finger, the target had transformed into a man, tall, dark and terminally handsome. And rising through the ranks? Well that didn't really figure in the agenda anymore. Not with how many…

Sarah drank in the features of the man before her, her angel in the life of hell on earth she had so far led, his presence promising to change all that, just like he'd managed to change everything else. Forever. Now the only challenge would be to make him believe that she truly meant it... Now even more than he did.

"I kinda like the idea of that…"

Planting a soft kiss to Chuck's perfect lips, Sarah mulled the most important word she'd come across so far in her life over in her head. Damn it sounded good.

"Forever."

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2: So… What did you guys think? A taster of the mystery that is Morocco (of which there will be more, don't worry!). Good, bad, disappointing? Lol! Any and all reviews are more than welcome and appreciated! Oh yeah, and don't forget not to work too hard, and make sure to have a great day you guys! You deserve it :D**


	9. Houston, we have a Problem

**Houston, we have a Problem.**

**A/N: Hey guys, so I'm sorry this has taken so long, again. I don't have an excuse really, it just is what it is, and for that, I'm really sorry. Thank you for reading, and continuing with this story after such a long hiatus. I would, as always, like to thank my port in the storm, Virgil, better known as BillAtWork, because without him none of this would have been possible. I would also like to thank all you Chuck fans that have kept the journey that is Chuck going for 5 years! Who would've thought, in the days of subway campaigns and all that time teetering between cancellation and renewal, we'd make it here? It's been a ride, Chucksters, and a damn good one to boot.**

**Oh yeah, I don't own Chuck. If only!**

* * *

><p>Colonel Casey had never been a person to let life pass him by. He led by example, was a doer, but that didn't mean that adequate planning should be sacrificed in the process. Planning was the key to everything, especially when you could never predict the outcome of any particular mission; forget to factor in the possible appearance of an enemy agent exiting a toilet, the pet dog of the oligarch barking when infiltrating his house, and it was all over. It was for this reason that the Colonel always described himself as an active planner. And that was exactly what he was doing at this particular instant - planning.<p>

Reports of a massive shoot out not to far from Burbank had been broadcast over the usual military and federal channels - the ones that Casey often used to help himself fall into a peaceful slumber at night - and Casey knew better than to just ignore something this unusual… Okay, so it wasn't that unusual for Burbank, the place seemed to attract terrorists like bees to honey, but this close to The Intersect, the most important piece of government intelligence this side of… well, the most important piece of government intelligence in the world, and his asset…

'_The asset who takes off with my former partner at the drop of a hat…' _Casey grunted, his initial feeling of silent approval at Bartowski and Walker's impromptu walkabout turning sour. Walker may, by some accounts have been washed up, burned out, but any fool could see that it was always about Chuck, and she wasn't about to let him get hurt…

So he planned. The phone call was the first place to start, get the signal from Bartowski's phone traced and track their position, set up a rendezvous and make sure that tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum were still unharmed on the breathing side of the great void and that they had adequate back-up. Bartowski was always a jumpy bastard when the bullets started flying, even with the, albeit useless, Intersect 2.0, so this was all down to Walker, and as much as Casey believed that Sarah would do everything in her power to protect Chuck, the fact that she had been down and out for almost a year now, added to the fact that she left him before, niggled at him. Casey just hoped that his talk with his former partner earlier in the week had put everything into perspective for her; he had to admit, he had been pretty blunt with her, and Casey wasn't ever really one for social finesse or "tact".

What in hell was Bartowski even doing on the phone anyway? A small animalistic growl emanated from the Colonel, all that time he'd spent pummelling spy 101 down Bartowski's neck was obviously wasted – always using a secure line for communication when on the job was the second rule of spying, right after…

Typing furiously into his Government Issue netbook, his muscular fingers coming dangerously close to causing complete illegibility Casey immediately put a trace on Bartowski's phone, there was something fishy about that call, Casey's gut was telling him things weren't all fine and dandy in the land of lovesick foolishness - and if he could put a trace on Bartowski's phone, then it wasn't too much to conjure that someone else, someone much more sinister, could (and probably had) done exactly the same thing.

"Damn it Bartowski" Casey growled, slamming the lid of his laptop shut before pounding the table with his fist.

"I turn my back on you for one second and the battle of Serenity Valley is suddenly upon us. What the fuck Walker?"

Although his suspicions had yet to be confirmed, Casey was pretty sure that someone was after his asset, because, let's be honest, when was someone not after the intersect? And besides, when his gut told him something, he listened. It told him he wanted another hot pocket, he gave it another hot pocket. When it told him he needed another black and bitter coffee, he got it, because an army marches on it's stomach. So when his stomach told him there was something more to a situation than a seemingly innocent phone call, he believed it.

As if his life had turned into some elaborate Truman Show of a play, Casey's phone began to vibrate in his pocket, an unknown number being displayed across the cell's touch screen as Casey pulled it out of his pants. Putting the phone to his ear, a familiar voice floated its way into his tympanic cavity, a familiar voice that made the hot pocket the Colonel had lovingly devoured for his lunch, just an hour or so prior, turn to tapioca in his stomach – and Casey hated tapioca.

"Colonel Casey. This is Daniel Shaw, we worked together briefly in regards to The Ring threat posed to The Intersect in L.A. a few months ago. Well, I need a favour…"

* * *

><p>Chuck was ready to fight. He never was a confrontational person, but some things, some dreams, some people, were worth fighting for, and he would be damned if Daniel Shaw and his band of merry men was going to ruin all that he had ever wanted since the day, no... The second he'd met Sarah Walker. He wasn't going to let the past dictate what happened in the future either, and although he knew he still had to get his head around what had happened, what Sarah had done, he knew, at the end of the day, she hadn't done it to hurt him. And that is what he kept telling himself.<p>

Besides, he was sure that there was much more to that particular tale than that which had been divulged, and until the time he had all the facts, could quantify them with complete accuracy, he would reserve judgement. Not that he was the judging type either, did he really have the right? He'd never been in that situation before, after all, and probably never would.

The 2.0 was up and running. That would be a definite advantage to the fights that Chuck knew would be coming in the days ahead, on their mission to retrieve the one thing in this world that Sarah would rather not have any dealings with, but isn't that Murphy's law? Chuck smirked.

'_Screw Murphy's law'_ Chuck mused, his smirk widening all the while, he wasn't about to let something stupid and insignificant like the universe get in his way.

'_Bartowski's law is more like it.' _

"Chuck, you ready?" A soft voice asked, the timbre of it vibrating through his bones like a tuning fork searching for the perfect note when it had already been found.

"Yeah" he replied absently, his thoughts being swept away from the realm of mortal men into something more ethereal, and something much more dangerous.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Chuck turned to face the only person in this world who could show him such love, yet cause him so much pain at the same time, his eyes softening at the site of her, his Sarah.

"Yeah..." Chuck repeated, extending his hand to hers as he began to walk towards the door, something he mused much later was kind of symbolic, because this road they had decided to take, well, they'd just begun. As Sarah put her hand in his, the cool warmth - that indescribable combination of comfort and electricity that made every touch seems like the first - enveloped him in, what Chuck imagined, was a Visitor-like bliss.

"Let's go."

* * *

><p>The silence in their commandeered mustang was palpable. Sarah was used to the silence with Chuck; it was natural, it always had been, and comfortable, much akin to the feeling when you're totally at ease with the person you are with. But today, it was different. Yes, they'd hashed through things earlier, but that didn't mean that everything was suddenly all forgotten, fine and dandy as Chuck might say. And a part of her was glad of that, Chuck wouldn't be Chuck if he let sleeping dogs lie. Sometimes she needed that push too; but she also knew that it would probably take some time before Chuck actually told Sarah how much her actions in Morocco had affected him. But Sarah hadn't finished the story, the mission to Morocco that had turned into an epic of Ben Hur proportions, haunting her at every turn… then again; it was probably not too much of a stretch to imagine that he knew the rest of the tale already. After all, who didn't?<p>

Sarah went to open her mouth, but closed it again, her impression of a goldfish becoming masterful in its execution. She wanted to break the silence, to make the atmosphere less awkward, but what would she say?

'_Nice day today, don't you think?'_ Sarah thought, sarcasm dripping from the neurons in her mind, like fat from a kebab.

Who was she kidding? Unlike her goldfish impersonation, she was definitely not a master of small talk. So she kept her eyes on the road, turning her head occasionally, furtively, to catch a glimpse of the only man she had ever loved, his curls being flailed about haphazardly by the wind from his open window, the animals shapes being created causing her to let out a small laugh after remembering Ellie's words all those years ago whilst under the effects of pentothal.

Suddenly his eyes met hers. Their intensity too much for her to hold, Sarah instantly pulled her cerulean eyes back onto the road, biting her lip in the process. She'd moved so quickly that she hadn't seen the glint in his eyes. The one that hinted towards an empathy, an acknowledgement of the pain she'd felt in the time that she'd been in northern Africa - albeit it somewhat self-inflicted; because he'd felt it too.

They'd been on opposite sides of the world, yet they still felt the same way, felt the same pain that hurt so much, it made you want to vomit; the same wounds that never truly healed were mirrored upon their bodies, resting neatly upon the bosom, right above their hearts. And for once in her life, Sarah had actually come to terms with her emotions, let them play out before becoming putrid and self-destructive as they had so many times before.

Instead, Sarah let her mind fill on the journey ahead of them, the roads, the junctions, the markers that told her how far away she was from her destination. This wasn't the place that she wanted to go, anywhere else, apart from Morocco, and she would have been happy - put her in the middle of the killing fields of Afghanistan, fighting alongside, what Casey undoubtedly would describe as, her fellow patriots.

But the home of his parents? His mother..? Sarah was not relishing this at all. She tried to lose herself in the road, get lost in the journey, but it didn't work. It couldn't.

"How long till we get to Houston?" His voice, croaky from lack of use emanated from beside her, the tension in the air lifting merely at the sound.

"Not far now", Sarah replied with a drawn out yawn as her eyes met the clock glowing on the dashboard. 0113. It figured.

"About another hour and a half will get us to the city, and then I reckon about another 20 minutes to get to the house, although I'm not too sure about how Mrs. Austin will feel about being woken up in the middle of the night by the woman that killed her son." Sarah stated matter-of-factly.

"Hey…", Chuck said slowly, his voice soft yet firm.

"Don't say things like that. You did what you could in a shitty situation. Her son put himself right in the middle of that situation by choice. Nothing you could have done would have changed what happened."

But Sarah knew he was wrong. She'd been distracted, unfocussed, pushed Mark away - if not physically then definitely emotionally and socially. It was her fault. All of this mess, if only she hadn't been so afraid…

And now the entire nation, no, the entire world, was at risk, all because she made one mistake. Okay, even Sarah admitted that this was a pretty big mistake, and on so many different levels, but wasn't everyone allowed to make a mistake once in their lives?

Apparently not.

"You look exhausted, I can drive the rest of the way if you want? Let you get some rest."

Sarah turned her head, giving Chuck a look that said she'd only let him drive this car over her dead body. It might not have been her baby, but that didn't mean she didn't like to be in control any less. Another one of those annoying spy habits, she supposed. And she really didn't want to be left alone with her thoughts at the moment. They seemed to be more macabre than usual, and driving was a better distraction than none at all.

"Really, Chuck" Sarah replied her sapphire eyes glistening rhythmically to the light of passing street lamps, their tungsten aura creating a perfect juxtaposition that would leave even the most stoic breathless.

"I'm not all that… Tired…" Sarah continued as she turned her eyes back to the road, her words punctuated with a tell-tale yawn that would make the Gods sleepy.

"Right…" Chuck drawled, the sides of his mouth pinching upwards in response to her obvious lie.

"Let me guess; that was just you stretching your vocal cords then? Not a yawn or anything. Right?" Chuck continued, the smile growing on his lips mirrored by the mirth in his eyes.

"Fine Chuck, next truck stop we get to, you can drive. Okay?" Sarah replied, a fiendish plan coming to fruition in her head. She knew these roads like the back of her hand, driving around the country with her father had taken her, on more than one occasion, to this neck of the woods, and she hadn't managed to perfect her Texan accent by watching movies or how-to videos on YouTube.

"Awesome."

* * *

><p>Casey hadn't stayed alive in this business by being complacent, or forgetting to make sure precautions were put in place before he was whisked away someplace where they needed his… Expertise... Casey shuddered – his thoughts almost perfectly matched his earlier ones, a disorienting sense of déjà vu overcoming him, which Casey wasn't sure he liked.<p>

"Yet again, it all comes down to planning." Casey muttered to himself as his hands swept deftly across his laptop keyboard.

To be honest, it was a good thing that Chuck was such a dolt that he had actually invited Casey to family dinner on a Friday at his sisters. It made it much easier to put his contingency plan in place, and also allowed him access to some of the most delicious cooking he'd ever tasted (the pot roast was by far his favourite), and Casey had been to some pretty swanky restaurants in his time - not that anyone who saw him on the street would think so. Besides, in Casey's opinion, those little microbots added a certain peppery quality to his Quiche Lorraine that was no bad thing. No bad thing at all.

Finishing his typing with an overly dramatic flourish he attributed to Chuck's bad influence, Casey re-read his memo, watched the small green dot signifying his asset's position make its way into Texas and made 110% sure he had all the details, all the necessities - that to the naked eye, this message would seem innocuous enough. To everyone but Walker, that was.

The key to his plan was to keep Shaw in the dark. Play Shaw whilst seemingly being completely unaware of the true motives behind the beady eyed bastard's unexpected visit. That bit wasn't going to be easy, Shaw was trained nearly as well as he was (Casey still maintained that NSA training was far superior than the CIA counterpart, although Walker had done much in their time as partners to sway most of Casey's misgivings), so would be able to spot a fake a mile away, if Casey hadn't already been made. But even harder than that, Casey had to drop his communique to Sarah off without tipping off Shaw and his dogs.

Casey lifted himself from his chair and checked the monitors he'd had installed in his apartment, connecting to a whole city's worth of surveillance camera's he'd personally and precisely placed to give him an unhindered 360 degree view of the Echo Park complex, 24/7.

Just as he'd expected. It was goons galore out by the fountain, two guarding the entrance and a futher three making some semblance of a perimeter sweep. If there was a party or convention that was solely for bald, suit-clad men with the stature of Arnold Schwarzenegger circa Predator, it was taking place in Burbank, right now and, conveniently, right outside his apartment.

'_Well they don't look the least bit conspicuous'_ Casey mused, grunting at their amateurism. Not even Chuck would stick out as much as these idiots, and Chuck wasn't the most inconspicuous man on a mission, to say the least.

Casey needed to let Walker know what he had planned, otherwise everything would go down the pan. Thanks to Chuck's little phone call earlier, he could feign a reply message to check up on Chuck, give Sarah the code word to make her check their emergency stash point for further information. But Chuck using his phone was a major slip up, one that Casey would have expected Walker to have dealt with immediately after they went on the run. It was a rookie mistake, one that even Morgan would think twice before doing.

Casey grunted, this déjà vu stuff was doing his head in. Shaking his head in dismay, Casey surmised that Walker must have ditched both their usual lines by now, she wasn't stupid, and never, on the rare occasion she slipped up, did she make a mistake twice. It was still darn shoddy work though.

So the phone line was out. He'd try it, but thankfully, due to his uncanny foresight and borderline paranoia, Casey had a much more inventive, much more secure method of communique between himself and his asset.

"Heh", Casey sniggered as he cracked his knuckles in anticipation. There was no way Bartowski was going to see this one coming. In fact, Casey was a little bit peeved at not being able to see the nerd's reaction first hand. He guessed he'd just have to get the story out of Walker when all of this was over.

With communication with Eric and Ernie sorted, Casey began in earnest to devise a way to get his plan to Walker. Of course he had to go to the stash box. It was just getting to the box without being noticed, that was the problem.

"And here we are again, planning" Casey thought and actually chuckled despite himself, which was almost immediately replaced by the standard issue Casey frown.

"Damn you, Bartowski!" Casey shouted into the still air

"Damn you!"

* * *

><p>"Okay, that was a good one, Sarah, well done." Chuck granted wearily as he came to open the car door, stretching his arms and legs with blood curdling pops.<p>

"You got me."

"Thank you", Sarah replied smugly, stepping out of the car to take a lungful of the warm Texan air, filling her with nostalgia.

"This truck stop was always the way I knew we were nearly there, or that we'd made it. Texas was my Dad's favourite hiding place, on accounts of it being so big, y'know. He was on his way here when..." Sarah paused, the sentence dying on her lips.

"Needless to say, we spent a lot of time here."

Chuck looked over the Truck stop, his eyes taking in the sight of a weary café that had seen better days, gas pumps that seemed as though they had come from the 1920s, that, Chuck supposed, held a certain quaint quality that was endearing. He just wished he could see this place the way that Sarah did. He could see it in her eyes, there was a certain tranquillity here for her, a sense of place that seemed so perfect, Chuck wanted in on it.

"My Dad used to get me the most delicious ice cream from that old café over there." Sarah continued, pointing towards the flickering café sign.

"I looked forward to that so much as a kid. He always got vanilla, and I had…"

"Rocky Road", Chuck finished, enveloping Sarah in a gentle hug from behind, placing a delicate kiss on the side of her neck.

"Your favourite." Chuck smiled as Sarah turned in his arms, her face lighting up the dark early morning sky so magnificently, even the aurora borealis could not compete.

"You remembered", Sarah breathed through her smile before giving Chuck a quick peck on the cheek. "No-one ever remembers."

"I do." Chuck stated, as if it was obvious, a given that he'd know something like that.

_'Of course it was a given'_, Sarah scolded herself, _'he's Chuck.'_

"I remember everything you tell me, Sarah. The time you broke arm working a con with your Dad and went a week without visiting the hospital, the time in Bulgaria you knocked out the leader of a terrorist cell with a bra turned slingshot, oh yeah… Heh… and that one time when you went to the DMV and…" Chuck blurted, the apparent lack of need for oxygen a feat even the most talented free diver would be proud of.

"Okay, now I just sound like a creepy stalker, don't I?"

Sarah laughed heartily.

"Maybe, Chuck. But you're my creepy stalker."

Sarah pulled Chuck into another embrace, the feeling of his body against hers soothing, despite the temperature of the air, even at this early hour. It was a feeling that was hard to describe, it wasn't something that Sarah had really experienced before, and perhaps that was one of the reasons that she revelled in it so much, not to mention the fact that Chuck was the only one who had, and could ever give her that tingling sensation she lived for. Sarah supposed that this is what home felt like. And damn if it didn't feel good.

"Yes. That I most certainly am. Aannd…" Chuck drawled, pulling away from Sarah to look her directly in the eye, a mischievous smirk, not dissimilar to the one Sarah herself had been sporting not too long ago, appearing on his face.

"I have the car keys!" Chuck laughed, bounding away from Sarah before she could snatch his precious away from him.

"Chuck!" Sarah screamed, laughter pouring out of her lungs as Chuck jingled the keys in front of her, his tongue poking out between his lips, an obvious, yet remarkably effective taunt.

"How did you..?" Sarah's incredulous look causing Chuck to almost fall to the floor with laughter.

"I told you I remember everything you tell me. Besides, a little help from the intersect didn't hurt either!"

"Oh, you're in for it now mister! When I get my hands on you..!" Sarah shouted happily, the combined laughter of male and female voices filling the still air for miles around as Sarah chased after Chuck. And, of course, the all-important and oh-so precious keys.

* * *

><p>Chuck pulled the car up outside the address Sarah had punched into the GPS they'd found in the glove box of their commandeered mustang. For once, Chuck thanked the Lord that some people ignored the warnings manufacturers plastered all over the box of these things, just to cover their asses.<p>

"Are you sure that was the right address, Sarah?" Chuck asked skeptically as he pulled the handbrake and turned off the engine.

"Yeah, Chuck." Sarah replied, her head down, working on some kind of wondrous lock picking device so they could not only sneak into the Austin residence, but sneak in without waking the inhabitants, get the intel, and leave, as if nothing had ever happened.

"Why?" Sarah finished as she looked at Chuck, her gaze following his finger as he pointed towards the window behind her.

"Oh…" Sarah whispered, throwing the unfinished lockpick into the back seat.

"I see…"

Stepping out of the Mustang, it was even more easy to see that the place was deserted - a derelict house on a street of mansions, the Beverly Hills, Fresh Prince of Bel Air kind of places that positively reeked of money. Between the boarded and broken windows, the badly secured, almost hingeless door and the dereliction notice pasted jointly to it, Sarah likened this to a house not far akin from something out of The Addams Family.

"Well, I don't think this place has been lived in for some time… Seems like Mark was lying about this being his mother's house…"

"Yeah", Chuck replied, swatting a cobweb away from the wonkily hung front door. "I think you may be right."

Sarah turned the door handle once, years of dust falling from the crack between the door and frame as the door swung, or rather lurched slowly open, the sound of creaking hinges so stereotypical, Chuck couldn't help but comment. Sarah simply rolled her eyes, her hand never leaving the hilt of the Smith & Wesson at her back and continued her stride into what appeared to, at one stage, have been the main room.

Chuck coughed into the darkness of the room, the dust being awakened from its slumber doubtless to cause Chuck's allergies to go craaazy. The room was pitch black, save for the dim dawn light that swept into the house from the open front door, the dust, as far as it could be seen, acting as a mist of putrid, diseased decay. It was Dickensian - Miss Havisham's house, down, almost, to the last letter.

The sound of ripping behind him gave Chuck cause to jump, managing, just, at the last minute to swallow that girliest of squeals he'd brought with him into adulthood from his pre-puberty days.

The décor was old, mid 80s if Chuck had to guess, but then again, the thick layer of dust covering every nook and cranny made it hard give an accurate guestimate. One thing Chuck did know, however, was that this place was creepy. Something here wasn't right, and Chuck wanted nothing more than to get the codex, and get out of here.

"Ah-ha!" Chuck exclaimed, rubbing his hands together in glee as a dastardly bond villain would, and turned to the blonde angel standing beside him.

"The painting. Evil genii always hide safes behind large, gold framed pictures of race horses over their fire places. It's what I'd do anyways."

"Is that so?" Sarah replied, one soft, long hand resting gently upon her hip, a slight pout amplifying her plump, soft, inviting lips in such a way, Chuck couldn't help but take his eyes off them.

"Uhh…" was all that Chuck could reply, his brain had stopped working the second Sarah had stared seductively biting the corner of her lip.

"And I suppose you are one of these genii you were speaking of then, Chuck." Sarah continued, her long legs carrying her, a sway in her step that had Chuck's head bobbing backwards and forwards as a dog following a tennis ball.

"Yeah…" Chuck replied absently. How did she do that? Was she a witch? No, that was too unflattering to Sarah. Yeah, there were some pretty hot witches on the TV these days, but they still didn't really make up for the high multitude of warts and hunched backs ilk of witch. No, Sarah was definitely more like an angel, maybe he thought that too often, but Chuck really couldn't find a better day to describe the way she seemed to almost float across a room, her steps so graceful, her movements so perfect, yet, to the wrong person, also so deadly.

'_Okay'_, Chuck compromised, _'Sarah's like an angel, but from the Old Testament._'

And that was definitely something. As Sarah continued her enrapturing dance towards Chuck, the softness of her lips getting ever closer to his own, ready and waiting, prepped for docking, when Sarah stopped. Just. Out. Of. Reach.

Now Chuck really understood how Tantalus felt. It sucked.

"Hmm, really?" Sarah leaned in and whispered into Chuck's ear, the warmth of her breath leaving tingles on the back of his neck.

"Mmmhmm", Chuck whimpered, unable to move as though Sarah had put him under some divine spell, her living, breathing, personal statue.

"Strange," Sarah whispered again, this time in the opposite ear, gaining another whimper out of her helpless prey.

'_This,'_ Sarah grinned, before finishing her sentence _'is for stealing my car keys.'_

"Because I always thought that the plural of genius was geniuses, but then again, I'm sure a genius like yourself would know that, wouldn't you?"

Patting Chuck on the shoulder, Sarah continued to walk straight past Chuck and inspect the painting before her, a hand rising to her mouth to stifle any hint of a smirk.

"Wha..?" Chuck finally managed, the blood returning, to his brain after what seemed to be an eternity and a day, his slack jawed expression too cute for Sarah to ignore.

Giving Chuck a not-so-quick kiss, the catalyst to the full reboot of her lover's senses and as compensation for her earlier teasing, Sarah couldn't help but laugh once again, this time at Chuck's obvious, innocent look of confusion.

"You just got pwned!"

"Sarah..." Chuck began, the trademark Bartowski grin suddenly popping onto his face in recognition, "you are evil, you know that? And did no-one ever tell you that with great power…"

"… Comes great responsibility. I know, Chuck. I remember the things that you tell me, too. Even if they are quotes from comic books."

Giving Chuck yet another kiss, this time a peck on the cheek, Sarah quickly made her way to the window she'd uncovered earlier, the blush rising rapidly upon her cheeks in response to her earlier admission.

Shaking his head to get rid of the stupid grin that seemed to have made itself a permanent feature on his face since Sarah began quoting Spidey, Chuck continued his inspection of the portrait of one 'Red Rum', a prize-winning, regal, chestnut race horse. Or at least, that's what the description of the painting said.

'_Yep._' Chuck mused, thoughts returning to Sarah, his chest feeling as though it was about to burst. In a good way, of course, not a John Hurt, exploding alien offspring kind of way.

_'I am definitely one lucky guy.'_

"The code to the safe is 30, 7, 82, Chuck" Sarah called from her position by the window, keeping an eye out for any of Shaw's cronies, or, God forbid, Bub.

"Gotcha." Chuck replied, tongue poking slightly out of his mouth as he began working on the numbers to open the safe.

"You know, Mark really should have known better than to put his birthday as the code for the safe. Any hacker worth his salt would be able to get into his personnel file, or whatever, and shazam! They've got the code. They've got the Codex, and then…"

"It's not his birthday Chuck" Sarah interrupted, Chuck's verbal diarrhoea cutting off immediately after her dulcet, yet troubled tones met the air.

"It's mine."

"Oh..." Was all Chuck could muster; biting his lip to act as a filter to his mouth, for once. How could she, after everything she put him through, all the spiel about the danger, just to know the littlest thing that was real, just gives it to him like that?

Chuck worked the lock in silence, making sure to reset the combination at the beginning, just in case someone else had be giving the lock a twirl. If he asked himself that old question "could I be anymore stupid?" At last he had his answer. Yes. He could be more stupid, substantially, and seemingly increasingly so.

Chuck shook his head, yet again, but this time for the totally opposite reason. Now wasn't the time to get emotional. Just focus on the mission. That's what Sarah would do, right?

Continuing his input of the numbers, Chuck made sure he committed this combination to memory. The most important date, he surmised, that he'd ever have to remember, and one that he'd never forget. She may have given it to Mark just like that, but all he could do was to promise himself that he'd never forget it, because it was precious, made all that sweeter by the fight, by the work put in?

Maybe. At least that was what Chuck was going to tell himself.

Twisting the slowly to the right, Chuck heard the lock click as it met the number 82, the door popping open with a small 'swish' of air.

"Umm… Sarah, I think we have a problem here…" Chuck started, his voice heavy and slow as he peered into the safe.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean, it's empty?"<p>

"I mean there is nothing in here, nadda, zilch, devoid of contents. Empty."

"No… No, this can't be right… Are you sure Chuck? Nothing? At all? The Codex has to be here, Chuck. It's the only place, it's the drop point. It has to be there."

Sarah's eyes betrayed the fear in her heart, the realisation that if Shaw had already gotten the Codex, then that was it. Game over. Goodbye world as we know it – and something told Sarah that everything wasn't going to be fine.

This was the place. Sarah was sure of it. Mark had always mentioned meeting his parents, going back to Texas to introduce her. For all the sadistic qualities Mark Austin possessed, Sarah had thought this was a rare moment of normality, an act of compassion.

But she was wrong, again, and she didn't like it. If only she'd taken the time to listen, to do her job and humour that scumbag of an asset. It wasn't even that he was the worst person she'd ever had to deal with in her line of work, it was just that…

Aaah. Sarah just wanted to scream. This was the only place outside of Morocco, outside of their carpet store/CIA base, in fact, that Mark had ever mentioned. And Sarah had searched that shop, every roll of carpet, every piece of computer hardware, top to bottom for what she knows now was the Codex. She wanted a way out of there, and if finding the Codex would secure herself a speedy extradition, then she was all for it.

But she never found any signs of anything that seemed suspicious, like it may be the then unknown tech that Mark was holding her, and the whole of the CIA, ransom for. The only logical conclusion Sarah could muster was that the Codex was here. That he'd tried to give her the Codex so many times, when she'd made up excuses about not being able to leave the secured location, not having enough back-up, the dangers of leaving the base unmanned, etc. But those, like so many other times in Sarah's life, were just excuses, and she could have avoided this whole mess by just listening, by making connections and doing what felt right for once in her life - by being like Chuck.

Making excuses - the second thing the CIA taught you, just after lying and immediately before the deadly use of a gun.

"No…" Sarah repeated breathily, her heart pounding two hundred times a minute, so loud she swore it could be heard from Mexico.

Chuck, gauging Sarah's expression, intensified his efforts to find anything, however miniscule, however futile, in that God damned safe.

"I am 100%, no 120% sure that there is nothing in this… Wait…"

There was a strange hole in the corner of the safe's back panel. Small and unassuming, as though a minor fault in the manufacturing process had caused an erroneous bevel - a very round, no, perfectly round bevel that was also, coincidently, the perfect size for a button.

"Sarah…" Chuck breathed, immediately bringing Sarah's full attention upon the lockbox and the small divot he'd found.

Moving aside to let Sarah take a closer inspection at his finding, Chuck let his imagination wander as to what, if anything, pressing this button might lead to if this was a James Bond movie. A secret underground base like Castle? The blueprints for an evil space station the size of a small moon that had the power to destroy planets?

But what was he thinking? This was serious. From what the flash had shown him, this Codex thing was the real deal. He'd told Morgan to grow up enough times during the not-so-pretty aftermath of a mystery crisper session, yet, it seemed he couldn't even manage it himself.

'_Oh boy'_, Chuck gulped, his eyes now focussed on the safe in front of him, not a galaxy far, far away.

Well, where the safe had been, that is.

In its place, a leggy blonde had been replaced, head stuck right in the empty, cavernous safe, the grapefruit scent of her shampoo was intoxicating, the colour of her ivory skin (despite the paint by numbers of bruises tickled across her body) against the white of her skin tight tank top causing Chuck to gulp yet again. He couldn't believe that he was so lucky, and, if she moved her arm to the right, just a smidge…

'_Bingo!'_ Chuck salivated, now he had the perfect view. He knew there was some advantage, other than being able to reach the top shelf, for being tall.

"You don't have to take sneaky peeks now, Chuck." Sarah called mischievously from her place seemingly inside the safe, her lip quirking slightly.

"What?" Chuck almost squealed, his face making an extremely convincing imitation of a strawberry, "I'm not… I mean I wasn't… I didn't…"

"It's okay, honey." Sarah replied, patting Chuck blindly on the back, her main focus still being used to crack the enigma of the hidden safe.

"This can't be right…" Sarah whispered as she pulled out of the safe, a new compartment being revealed behind the original safe in her wake. And this time, it wasn't empty.

He only wished it was.

Chuck's heart sank. He knew that if they'd actually found the blueprints of a real life Death Star in Mark's lockbox, that would be more than pretty shit, but he couldn't make up his mind if this was worse or not. On any normal day, Chuck would have thought this was pretty cool, although pirates were always more Morgan's thing growing up. But not today, not when X marked that spot, out of a whole world's worth of spots.

"Looks like we're off to Morocco." Sarah said dryly, her voice and face stoic and emotionless as she strode purposefully out of the house, the wind bellowing in her wake - a tumult of proportions to rival even Aeolus.

"Great…", Chuck replied in kind.

"Just great."

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2: Bill and I have got more than a few ideas for the next chapter, so hopefully that one won't have such a long wait...  
><strong>

**As always, reviews are more than appreciated, but more importantly, enjoy your day and if you absolutely, positively have to work hard, then make sure you play harder!**


	10. Trouble and Strife

**Trouble and Strife**

**A/N: As I promised, here is the next chapter, and only a week(ish) between the two! I'd like, once again to thank the ever knowledgeable Virgil, formerly known as BillAtWork for all his help. He is the maestro and I am merely his apprentice. Thanks for the awesome reviews for the last chapter guys, now onto the story!**

**I don't own Chuck, btw.**

* * *

><p>"Chuck?" Sarah called, inhaling a breath of the fresh Texan air a welcome comfort from the dusty tomb of the house.<p>

Sarah shielded her eyes from the sun, its rays blinding her in its early morning splendour, painting the world with an inviting orange hue, of warmth and contentment.

But she couldn't revel in any of that, Chuck had left, like a mirage in the morning heat, out of the house without a word. Maybe she wasn't as good as Chuck at reading between the lines, but Sarah wasn't completely inept. Being a spy hadn't let her, and being around Chuck for so long meant some of his qualities were bound to rub off.

Sarah scoured the landscape for the familiar, lanky, gangly shape of her nerd, but failed. The world was empty, too early for the morning commuters, too early, even, for the paper boy, and so the world stood in silence. Stood to mock her for her actions, for revealing something real to someone who had meant nothing… Nothing to her at least, when she'd held back so much from the person that meant everything.

How did she expect him to react to that news? Should she have just let Chuck believe it was Mark's birthday, and let it lie? Would that have really been easier?

'_No.' _Sarah stated to herself, the force behind her thought shocking even herself. She'd lived behind a veil of lies for the majority of her life, every word subversive, and every action with its purpose. If she wanted something real, something healthy and productive with Chuck then she couldn't ignore the evils of the past. As much as she wished she could.

"Chuck?" Sarah called again into the ether, a glimpse of curly brown hair catching her eye from the darkened windows of the Mustang.

Striding purposefully - faltering now would only delay the inevitable - from the house's front step, Sarah made her way to the Mustang, her pace steady despite the hiccups of her heart.

Suddenly, Sarah found herself at the car, her feet focussed when her mind had wandered. She reached her hand towards the door handle, a small tremor pulsating its way through her body. She drew in a breath. In the last week she'd never felt so at liberty, so free in her expression, yet so restricted. Before she never had to care about what she was saying, even if she was professing her love, or expressing her endearment to somebody, it was empty. Always. But now? Now that she actually cared about the person, cared about the outcome?

Sarah was never nervous. In the middle of the gun fight, Sarah was the one that was in the middle of it all, the one that the others looked to for support, the one that could always be counted on to get the job done, and then some.

Sarah pulled the handle, a rush of warm air hitting her from the enclosed atmosphere of the Mustang, and stepped into the car, a miniature prison for her pain, for her mistakes, judge, jury and prosecutor all present in the form of one person.

Sarah gulped, Chuck seemed despondent, untalkative, which was definitely not like him. It unnerved her, but it wasn't unexpected. What she'd done had hurt him, again. What more did she expect? For all her sins to be forgiven at the drop of a hat? Only God did that, apparently, and, for all he was, Chuck was still only human.

"I needed…", Sarah began, cutting herself off before she had finished, the words not enough.

"I wanted… No, I… I'm sorry Chuck. I won't say that if I could do things again, that I wouldn't give Mark my birthday, because I would. It was what the mission needed what Mark needed to build that trust, so that he knew… so that he thought I was in the relationship, that I felt the same way…"

"You never thought that it might be nice for me to know that you felt the same way?" Chuck shouted, his face pulled in anguish, his hands clenched in his lap.

"You never thought that I needed that, Sarah? All those times I asked you for something, anything real and you spouted about how it was too dangerous, or just plain ignored me?"

Chuck fidgeted in his seat, his hands clenching open and closed as he pulled at his bottom lip with his teeth. He was fuming, angry, in a way that Sarah had never seen before, and his questions weren't rhetorical.

She had a reason, of course, but, at this point, just having a reason wasn't enough. She'd had enough reasons to not give Mark that information, there were probably more reasons not to give Mark her personal details than there were for. She'd made mistakes, God knows that.

"It meant nothing, Chuck, I promise, nothing I ever told Mark meant anything to me." Sarah replied, her voice the antithesis of Chucks , small and timid, the mouse to Chuck's elephant.

"But it would have meant something to me, Sarah." Chuck replied in kind, moving himself to face Sarah, his leg coming to rest underneath himself on the seat.

"I would have meant everything to me, Sarah. I just wanted something; it didn't have to be big, just something real."

Chuck's expression turned from anger to pain, the kind that lingered in your soul and tormented you for life, the kind that laughed at those who said that words could never hurt you. Because they could. They may not hurt you physically, might cause a wound that people could see, that could be fixed and treated, would heal over time. No, words were much more sinister, and the wounds they created couldn't always be healed.

"That's just it, Chuck. Before you, it was always the mission. I could say anything to anyone, and it didn't matter, because it was all about the mission, being the ultimate spy, and getting the result."

Sarah lowered her eyes and picked at her cuticles. She'd already confessed her feelings for Chuck once before, why should this be any more difficult?

"But then you came into my life, Chuck, and from the moment I met you… You were like a breath of fresh air and it was beautiful, you were beautiful, Chuck. The way you were with people, with Morgan, Ellie, even with Jeff and Lester, there was such a love of the people around you, and it was nothing I'd ever seen before. Not even my Dad was like that with me; there was always some motive to what he said, but not with you."

Sarah began to raise her eyes to meet Chuck's, but failed at the last moment, instead bringing her sapphire orbs to rest on the landscape through the window of the Mustang, just behind Chuck's head.

"You already know that you broke down every defence that the spy world had told me to cultivate, and nurture, the psychological barrier that would keep me sane if under torture. But it didn't work Chuck, because being with you, for the shortest amount of time and they'd gone."

"So," Chuck interjected, his body language declaring to Sarah that he had yet to ease up, that her explanation had a long way to go yet before Chuck was comfortable with the whole idea of what she'd done.

"Being with me is like torture to you?"

Sarah's eyes bored into Chucks, the pain behind them yet again echoing the pain in his own, though it was perhaps greater. There was no-one in the world that Sarah would rather spend time with, whether in silence, in the pain she was currently experiencing or in her memories, she'd always choose to spend it with Chuck.

"Sorry…" Chuck whispered, "that was out of line."

"It's okay…" Sarah shrugged, she guessed that was what she got after what she'd pulled. Not only the birthday, but the 'intimacy' – the sex. In fact, she'd envisioned his reaction to be much worse than that, but perhaps this was only the beginning. Only time would tell on that one.

"I know you think that I gave Mark everything that you'd ever wanted, but it's not like that Chuck. You know how long I've lived the spy life, know the training that I've done, right? Well that's just the thing, Chuck, it's all training. They tell you to do whatever it takes to complete a mission, hell, you've met Roan Montgomery, he's basically a CIA sanctioned gigolo. Sex and spying has always been entwined, as sickening and seemingly illegal that may be. Seduction is just another word for sex in the spy game, even Casey would tell you that."

Chuck cringed slightly at the thought of Casey seducing, well, anyone. Some things were just wrong, on so many levels.

"Sex has been empty for me for a long time, Chuck, but that's not the point. The point is that Mark wanted to know my birthday for a reason. He wasn't just interested in learning stuff about me, although that may have been an added bonus, but he seemed to have

"Okay", Chuck drawled, the tension in his shoulders softening slightly. Holding her hand out towards Chuck, open palmed awaiting the warmth of his skin on hers, Sarah held her breath as the punch line neared.

'_At least'_, Sarah mused to herself, '_he hasn't left the car. That must be a good thing.'_

"I think I get it. I might not like it, but I can deal with it. I mean, it's not like you told him your life story, is it? Or got married to him."

"No", Sarah breathed, thankful at last that she could assuage Chuck's fears, and tell the truth. Which was a novel, and refreshing feeling.

"Definitely not."

"Well okay then," Chuck continued, taking Sarah's soft, cool hand in his, intertwining their fingers.

"Okay," Sarah repeated, a smile coming to her face, the only person she wanted to marry, for the rest of her life, was sitting right in front of her, holding her hand, and smiling, despite all the shit she had put him through. If she was alpha, then he was her omega – her be all and end all.

"Just tell me one thing. Why did you give him your actual birthday? I mean, you said yourself that you made a living out of lying, so why not lie about that? It would have been easy enough, right?" Chuck asked, the curiosity wide in his eyes, all hints of accusation, of hurt wiped away. For the time being at least.

"Oh." Sarah coughed, surprised by his question, pulling her out of her thoughts of a white picket future.

"He was very persistent, always asking me about my birthday. Not, what's your real name? Where did you grow up? Not the questions that someone who was simply interested would ask. Not the questions that you'd asked."

Sarah looked down towards their locked hands, the fit was perfect, his strong, muscular fingers giving her a sense of security, of being safe and loved so that she couldn't help but smile.

"That's what first told me something was up. He kept asking, and I kept telling him it was too dangerous, or it was against protocol, the same reasons that I'd given you."

Chuck nodded slightly during Sarah's monologue, urging her to continue, whilst indicating his support.

"I thought maybe he was going to use it as a password to this thing he was working on on the computers at the base, and I needed a number I could remember so that I could hack into his account and find out just what exactly he was up to. I thought it would get me out of there quicker, Chuck. I couldn't do it anymore."

"So did you find out what he was doing?" Chuck asked quickly, his enthusiasm for anything technological coming to the fore.

"He building skynet, wasn't he? I knew it."

Sarah gave a pained laugh that felt like ash to her lungs. No, she hadn't found out what Mark was working on. He'd died a week after she'd told him her birthday, and he'd been glued to the monitor for the majority of that time.

"I don't know, I never found out." Sarah replied, "He died not long after that."

The silence in the car was, yet again, uneasy. The tension mounting backwards and forwards like a tennis ball between Venus and Serena. But Sarah knew she had no-one to blame but herself for the way things panned out with Chuck. And with Mark, for that matter.

"But that's all in the past." Sarah finished a sense of finality in her words bringing a sense of calm back into the Mustang.

"I love you Chuck. Every time I close my eyes all I can see is you, a future with you, and that's something that I've never experienced before, and to be absolutely honest with you, Chuck, I love it. I love you."

"I love you too, Sarah." Chuck replied, the words slipping off his tongue as easily as oil over water. It was natural, easy, and felt good. Much better than that anger that he had been experiencing earlier, so much better.

Sarah couldn't help but light up at hearing those words. He still loved her, even after this latest set-back in their relationship that she'd caused.

"Marry me." Sarah blurted, a victim to a bout of Chuck-esque mind-mouth filtering.

"Say what?" Chuck replied, eyes the personification of Tatooine's moons.

"I said marry me, Chuck Bartowski." Sarah paused. "I want you to marry me."

"Okay. Who are you, and what have you done with Sarah Walker?"

"Nobody's done anything to Sarah Walker; she's just come to her senses, that's all. She finally knows what she wants from life, and she wants to spend it with you."

"Well, Chuck" Sarah asked into the silence, "what d'ya say?"

"You, you want to marry me now? Like right here, right now?"

"Right here. Right now, Chuck. Marry me."

* * *

><p>You wouldn't get anywhere in life by being lazy. So Daniel Shaw lived by the ethos of live or let die. Or rather, live and let others die – and so far, he liked the way things had worked out. He had a swanky office at the top of the CIA headquarters at Langley, a sweet ride and he was a magnet for the ladies. By anyone's standards, he was a lucky guy.<p>

But that's not how Shaw saw things. He'd had enough of being mediocre, sure he had made a name for himself in the CIA, hence the office and the car, but he wanted more, and the codex was the best way to get it, the key to everything.

Shaw cracked his knuckles. He'd never really had much time for tech guys and pencil pushers and the likes and he'd just about reached his annual charm quota. They were too predictable, once you got them strung up, put a bit of duct tape over their mouths, they wet their pants. You really didn't have to do much to make them spill their beans. It was the same with this one, although, to his merit, the pants wetting had come much later than Shaw had predicted… But it still came.

"I know you have it, Mark." Shaw stated, clicking his neck to the side theatrically, the kind of move to show his prey just how serious he was.

"Give me the Codex, and I'll let you go. Quid pro quo as they say."

Apart from being strung up, Mark looked pretty much as though he'd just left the house. Sure, his hair was a bit ruffled, and his shirt was more than a bit wrinkled, but who wasn't to say he was just an untidy man? Besides, it pretty much suited the setting. Old warehouse by the docks, the smell of old fish from the crates littering the building, your stereotypical south east Asian fish market aroma, as well as your stereotypical hostage/torture venue. An oldie, but a goldie.

"I told you", Mark repeated, a tone of exasperation entering his voice. A mistake, he later surmised, on his part.

"I don't have it, hence, I can't give it to you."

Mark gulped as Shaw pulled a nasty looking needle from a pile of crates just to his right. Grabbing a small vial from his pocket, Shaw sighed.

"Mark, Mark…" Shaw scolded, striding rhythmically towards the trussed up man.

"I told you, it's wrong to tell lies. Now. Lets' start again, shall we?"

Shaw injected the needle into the vial and took a healthy draw of the yellow coloured liquid it contained before holding it to the light. Oh, how he enjoyed these moments. So what if all he'd put into the syringe was Mountain Dew? Mark certainly didn't know that, and Shaw thought the colour added a certain pizazz to proceedings. People always thought that coloured liquid was much worse than its clear brethren.

Oh, how wrong they were.

"Give me the Codex."

"I promise", Mark answered, this time, his voice high pitched and panicked, sweat marks beginning to appear around his armpits.

"I don't have it."

"Well, Mark, I must say, I am disappointed in you." Shaw smiled sadistically, inching ever towards his cornered, cowering prey.

"I gave you everything you could have asked for. I gave you money, gave you resources, gave you Walker as your plaything. All I asked for in return was the Codex."

Shaw, now nose to nose with Austin, flicked the syringe before burying it deep into the flesh of Mark's not so fleshy ribs.

"Well, since you don't seem to want to tell me where the Codex is, I guess we'll have to do this the old fashioned way." Shaw whispered above Mark's scream of agony.

"No, no, I know where it is, I know where it is, Sarah has it. Agent Walker has it."

Shaw slapped Mark across the mouth.

"What do you not understand about lying being wrong? I know that Walker hasn't got it. We're not stupid, Mr Austin, and I'm not going to ask again. WHERE IS THE CODEX?" Shaw shouted, the remnants of his lunch earlier pattering Mark across the face.

"She has it," Mark repeated, licking the blood off his lip.

"She just doesn't know that she has it."

Stilling his hand just centimetres from Austin's swelling face; Shaw looked his victim in the eyes. The truth could always be found in those, even in the most talented of agents… Just with them it was difficult to get close enough to look into his eyes.

"Just like she doesn't know that you're still alive, right?" Shaw snarled. Despite his utter contempt for this waste of space, Shaw had to give Austin credit for the way he'd duped Walker.

"Sir" A familiar voice echoed through the building, its matching silhouette standing by the entrance to the warehouse.

"What do you want?" Shaw shouted angrily, his nostrils flaring at the untimely interruption. Just as he was getting into the flow of things.

"We've got a hit on Walker, sir. Her name on a wedding certificate, seems like she's just married the nerd."

Shaw's brain was working overtime. This was perfect; he couldn't have set it up any better. Shaw laughed sadistically, the sound echoing menacingly around the warehouse, incomparable and inescapable. Here he had Mark Austin, Walker's previous… well, you know what… And this was the kicker, she thought was dead. And then there was the Intersect, her new catch.

Shaw quirked his lip in amusement. He couldn't understand how a spy of Walker's calibre could put up with that bumbling idiot for more than 10 minutes, but who was he to comment? Besides, it really did give him the perfect plan, and the perfect excuse to implement it. Not that he really needed an excuse, he was Daniel Shaw after all, but having one was always nice.

"Good." Shaw replied with relish, leaving Mark to hang in the middle of the warehouse as he made his way to the silhouette.

"Because she has the Codex. Release the prisoner. He's coming with me."

* * *

><p>Sarah knew that getting married now probably wasn't the most logical or practical thing to do at this point in time. Your stereotypical beady eyed bad guy was chasing after them; they were trying to find the Codex, or what Chuck had described earlier, and very ominously, as 'the key to everything'. So getting married, on a normal person's list, probably wasn't at the top. But then again, she wasn't a normal person. And Chuck wasn't a normal guy, not that Sarah really knew what normal was in the first place, because, let's be honest here, no-one really does, do they?<p>

She'd never followed her heart, always thinking it was a path that only lead to destruction and pain. But, Sarah had recently decided, that came from all angles. In fact, not following your heart probably hurt more. There was a reason people always quoted Tennyson in times like this. Because, and this is truly a fact, 'tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.'

Sarah glanced across to the seat beside her. Chuck was grinning like the Cheshire cat, a grin that she was sure, was identical to her own. The reflection of the desert sun glinted at Sarah from the hand in her lap; the ring that tied her life to Chuck's caressing her finger. Sarah smiled again, although she wasn't sure whether she'd actually stopped, in the time that they'd gotten to the Justice of the Peace, gotten a pair of matching rings from a nearby jeweller and actually gotten married, to the time that Sarah had actually let Chuck drive the Mustang (as a wedding present), she hadn't stopped smiling. So that was pretty much a 2 or 3 hour work out for the facial muscles. Sarah didn't think that they'd ever been given such a gruelling regime, the muscles in the rest of her body, definitely, but facial muscles, the ones specifically used for smiling… Sarah wasn't so sure.

The fact that the act of smiling made her smile more was slightly peculiar and novel to Sarah, but who was she to judge? In turning over her new leaf, beginning her new life with Chuck, she had decided, amongst many, many other things, that she was going to spend less time worrying, and more time living. It may be a struggle at first, letting go, but she'd always have Chuck to help her through the hard times. And the good ones, and that was what Sarah was really looking forward to the most.

Sarah looked back to the minute she'd breathed "I do". Surprisingly enough, she hadn't been nervous at all. Maybe things had happened so fast that she hadn't had time to develop cold feet, but there wasn't a single bone in Sarah's body that wasn't ready for this. It wasn't like she was treating this was a mission either, because Sarah always got nervous before a mission, it was healthy, she'd been told by a self-proclaimed expert, to experience anxiety in the face of one's own death. Besides, treating this as anything other than what it was, joining herself for life to the person that she loved most in the whole universe, proclaiming her love publically and eternally, would be the worst kind of betrayal to Chuck.

No, Sarah hadn't been more sure of anything in her life, even when she vowed herself to Chuck 'til death do us part.' Things like that would usually have sent Sarah Walker running for the hills - historically, she'd been a living in the moment sort of gal, but now..? All Sarah knew was that her mind and her body were telling her something. That if there was ever something she should do, and do right by, then it was this, always and unequivocally, this.

A buzzing sound caught Sarah's attention, the thoughts of happy times, outdoors, on long summer walks with her husband and kids took a backseat temporarily in Sarah's mind. The sound continued, its pitch ebbing and flowing, a melody being formed behind it, one that Sarah thought she recognised.

Sarah looked to her left and the source of the strange noise. It was Chuck. He seemed to be humming a song of some sort, one that Sarah didn't recognise, not that that surprised her, because she hadn't really had that much time for music recently.

"Whatcha doing, Chuck?" Sarah asked, her voice floating ethereally from her throat, soft and comfortable with the slightest of hints of playfulness.

"Hmm..?" Chuck replied, the noise ending abruptly as a result.

"What was that you were humming? It sounded like a song."

"Oh, it's nothing, really. Just a song that always reminded me of you when you were gone. I'd use to listen to that every night, hoping that you'd come back, but you never did. That is, of course, until you did."

"What song is it, Chuck?"

"It's _Ain't No Sunshine_. The Lighthouse Family version, to be specific. Why do you know it?"

"Actually…" Sarah paused, marvelling in the fact that she actually knew a song that Chuck was talking about for once.

"I do."

Okay, so Sarah didn't know this Lighthouse Family version, but she did recognise the melody, it was probably, as with the rest of her musical knowledge, something her dad had played on the tape deck in his old Buick. Sarah didn't know if this was strange or not for a con-man, but her dad was rather fond of Bill Withers.

"Bill Withers." Sarah whispered, turning her head to watch the clouds passing swiftly past her passenger side window.

"Mmhmm" Chuck murmered delicately, a smile once again gracing his lips whilst he continued to hum; Sarah's eyes gently closing, the sun creating a kaleidoscope of patterns across her closed eyelids.

It was a good song, a good strong rhythm, oddly juxtaposing the overriding feeling the lyrics created. Lyrics that Sarah actually, mostly, knew, ones that broke her heart a little to know that these words were the ones Chuck had chosen to comfort himself in her absence.

"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone." Sarah began her voice small and sweet, perfectly in tune, a birdsong in the dawns light.

"It's not warm when she's away."

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2: Thanks for reading, and you know the drill - keep it easy and don't work too hard! Any reviews are more than welcome, getting feedback on where people think this story is going, or what people did or didn't like, I find, is one of the most rewarding things as a writer. Thanks again for reading, you guys are awesome!**


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